Weakness
by Tazmy
Summary: Rodney's not doing well after the events of the Hive. Thrust in the midst of a revolution, will his weaknesses destroy him and the team? NEW EPILOGUE ADDED!
1. Petrified

_**A big warm thanks to my betas: Kodiak Bear Country, Sholio, Ang w, and Egenus Fabula.** All remaining errors are mine. (Yes, four betas. They each specialize in a different area)._

Main Dish: Weakness

Ingredients: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whumping

**Some language. Spoilers for and up to the Hive including Trinity. Tag for the Hive.  
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Description: Rodney knows that his weaknesses will destroy him. Takes place directly after the Hive.

Disclaimer: I don't own Atlantis. I do not make a profit from this.

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**Part One: Catalyst**

**Chapter One: Petrified**

There's a Wraith standing over him. He can't see it, but the heavy breathing gives the monster away. He can feel his body tremble as the creature's hand moves toward him, inching arbitrarily close to stealing his life. But McKay's eyes won't open and the hand has yet to make contact with his bare chest. He's trapped in a moment, a small portion of eternity, knowing that any second now he will be dinner.

The Wraith snarls as Rodney fights desperately with his eyelids to get them to open, to have some idea of what is happening. But damn it, they just won't budge. Neither will the rest of his body for that matter.

Images of his friends shift through his mind. Sheppard or Ronon? They wouldn't be lying here, a hopeless prey waiting for the end, paralyzed by fear. No, they'd make every effort to overpower their enemy, and do so in a nonchalant fashion that would leave any observer swearing that taking down a Wraith didn't take any effort at all. As for Teyla, well there was no question that she could take one on and she'd do so with amazing agility and grace. But Rodney isn't any one of his teammates, he is in fact a scientist who is inadequately trained for the field, and yet no stranger to it. And he _is_ paralyzed, not even from a stunner, but from sheer terror.

"Pitiful. Is your life so worthless that you refuse to fight for it?" The Wraith spits the words in a deep, echoing voice, his putrid breath resonating in Rodney's nostrils.

A barrage of insults all race through McKay's brain, but he manages to keep his mouth closed, focusing on getting his body to respond instead. At first it is just the tiniest movement, a little pinky wiggling. The next thing he knows, he is acting on sheer instinct, rolling away from a shocked Wraith and coming to meet its beady eyes straight on. His hands clasp against a glass bottle, sending it crashing onto the specter's head, but only fazing it a little. Its life-sucking hand grabs tightly against his wrist, forcing the scientist to the ground via the use of horrific pain. Gasping, McKay fights to catch his breath. His eyes fill with tears. The throbbing in his shoulders increases ten-fold. So much for his little escape attempt.

"Much better. Looks like you have some spirit in you after all. It will make for a much tastier meal."

_Damn, the Wraith are really just one large cliché, aren't they?_

Black metal shines in his periphery and he knows that reaching his long-forgotten weapon is his only hope. It is just his luck that the gun is so close and yet so far, sprawled on the ground. There is only one way to survive now. And it just happens to be something McKay is very good at: distraction.

"Is that all your race can think about, eating? It's just a bit one-dimensional if you ask me. Don't get me wrong, I like food as much as the next guy, but I mean seriously, get a life. And the simple fact that this is coming from me should really tell you something."

He is blabbing, but it is all he can do to keep his mind off the pain. Any second now he is going to be nothing more than a dead old man and the transformation isn't going to be pretty. So much for his fair complexion. Damn. Where is his team when he needs them? Maybe, just maybe they will get to him on time. Maybe. But he cannot count on it so he has to get to the gun.

"A weapon, is that what you want? You think you can defeat me if you reach your precious device?" The Wraith passes a maniacal glare, reading his thoughts as the open book that they are.

McKay is still panting, desperately struggling to get his burning arm free from the wretched feeding device that is the other's palm. But once again, he isn't one of his teammates and he lacks the necessary strength. Salvation lies only a few feet away, and there isn't a chance in hell he is going to survive. If only he could open his eyes.

Wait, no, his eyes are open. What is he thinking? _Open your eyes, genius. You already know what happens next._ And as strange as his subconscious sounds, it is right. He does know where this is going. He has lived this a thousand times over. But even as he faces the glossy, white hair of the vicious creature before him, he cannot force his real eyelids to budge. He is stuck in this nightmare of his own making, a victim of his own dreams.

_Damn it, just wake up!_

A blinding flash of red lights up the room just as the Wraith's back arches. Its grip grows limp as it falls lifeless to the ground and at last Rodney is free. The scientist nods briefly at Ronon Dex, muttering a quiet, "Thanks," before falling back onto the ground.

"Get up." Ronon has no time for comfort and McKay finds himself glaring at the runner. He doesn't understand what it is to be weak. None of them do.

"Do as he says," Sheppard's voice calls from some other room. "We can't keep protecting you. Get your ass up and defend yourself."

Knowing he is asleep and doing something about it are two very different things. Rodney feels his whole body tremble violently, his shoulder blazing with intense pain. "Go to hell," he mutters under his breath. "I'm not doing this anymore."

But his nightmare has never relented before, and isn't going to tonight. Two more monsters enter; his teammate waves goodbye with a malicious smile. The real Ronon would never do that, McKay knows this, but knowledge alone doesn't stop the feelings of betrayal from boiling to the surface. And then he sees them, two kids gripped in the Wraith's hands. They are petrified and only McKay is there to save them. God he hates kids, but he can't let the Wraith kill them.

_But this is a dream. I don't have to do anything._

But damn if it doesn't feel real. One of the Wraith shouts a battle cry, or rather more of a growling snarl, before launching itself at McKay who is instinctively moving back. A chilling scream echoes from the girl just as Rodney is thrust against a nearby wall. Oh God, the other Wraith is going to feed on her and he can't even save himself.

His attacker throws him effortlessly to the ground, his already aching shoulder meeting cold metal with a hard jolt. The wraith are laughing at him and the kids are screaming and he is doing nothing but wither in pain. Oh god, he is going to die and in doing so, condemn the children.

"When they die, it will be your fault." The Wraith spits the words before swinging its foot into his abdomen.

He is still adjusting to the agony when he hears the boots of the Wraith shuffle away, the children screaming desperately for him to help them. But he can't. Even though they are little brats, they don't deserve to die. Hell, no one deserves the fate the Wraith offer. And he is weak and worthless. What he wouldn't give to be somebody—anybody—else right now. Somebody with something to offer other than a brain.

The dead Wraith doesn't move, its wide eyes staring out into an endless void. He creeps toward it, desperately trying to ignore the dizzying aroma of burnt flesh. Its corpse barely budges when he gently pushes against the creature. The Wraith is truly dead, at least that is one element on his side. He doesn't remember pulling out the knife, but its black hilt weighs against his grip. He raises it above the abdomen, ready to make his move. _If they die, it will be your fault. _The cold steel effortlessly passes through Wraith flesh just as one of the children screams once more from a nearby room. He hates to do this, but what choice does he have? What choice does he ever have?

The enzyme flows through his system as mother's milk flows into a child. Its pure form quickly takes effect as all the hopelessness drifts away. He feels it course through his veins, relieving all of his pain; he feels great. He is more that just a brain with the precious drug, he _is_ superman, and he is going to make the Wraith pay.

A malicious smile creeps into his features as he thinks of the way his team treated him, as though he were weak, as though he were slowing them down. But he is strong now, a thousand times more powerful than Ronon could ever hope to become. He wonders why he has taken so long to choose this course, to have the enzyme transform him into the amazing being he was always meant to be. He will do more than save the children, more than save his team, he will destroy all the Wraith, for he now believes himself capable.

SGA

It takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the night sky. Distant stars come into focus as he shifts himself against the metal plating, his left palm coming to rest on his right arm. The syringe marks are nearly gone now, but he can feel the enzyme course through his veins just as it had in his dreams. He flinches back from the movement, quickly checking to see if anyone noticed his moment of weakness. The pier is empty as most of Atlantis sleeps.

He is not an addict. He does not regret his decision. But he is no fool. He knows why he has dreamed that same nightmare since his return.

Tomorrow marks the return of Atlantis's flagship team to active duty. He doesn't want to go. He cannot afford to be weak.

SGA

Carson sighs as he lifts the warming coffee to his lips. It's too bloody early in the morning to be awake, but Lorne's team ran into trouble once again and it is Carson's job to put them back together. He doesn't mind, not really. What is sleep when there are people's lives to save? He could always rest later. Maybe.

He paces the metal plating, massaging his neck with his free hand. Imaginary lights flash before his eyes and he knows that if he doesn't sleep soon, he'll have a debilitating migraine. Through the haze he can see another hunched figure walking wearily ahead of him in the empty commissary.

"Rodney, what are you doin' up so late?"

The delayed response is more than noticeable as McKay turns on his heels and faces the medical doctor. Carson can see the dark bags collecting beneath his eyes and he doesn't care much for the man's complexion either.

"I couldn't sleep, so I was…" McKay's speech is slurred, his eyes unfocused. He has been off since his return from "rescuing" Sheppard and the others from the hiveship, but tonight he looks terrible. His hands are shaking. The Lord knows McKay has been through a lot and even if he has passed the worst of it, it isn't as though the scientist is just going to be okay. Some things take time and his whole team needs to recover.

"I could give you something to help you rest. No reason to suffer if you don't have to."

"I'll keep that in mind."

No snide remarks. No fake smile. The man is so weary Carson wonders whether he should have someone escort his friend back to his quarters and then keep an eye on him. Maybe he'll just take McKay back to the infirmary with him, probably a good idea to check his sugar levels anyway. The scientist is so out of it, he won't even notice it isn't his room until he wakes up the next morning, or afternoon if Carson has his say. The scientist is swaying slightly so Carson grasps McKay's wrist, trying to steady him. "You need rest, Rodney. You're a bloody wreck. And what's this? You're freezing cold. You didn't spend the night on the pier again did you?" He passes the sleepwalker an admonishing glare, but McKay fails to react once again.

"Yes, well I could use some more sleep." He offers a half smile as though hoping he can convince Carson that all is well. It is a pitiful attempt. He doesn't even try to escape the physician's clutches.

"Aye, you better. If you come to your pre-mission check-up without having had a decent 8 hours, you might as well not bother because I won't clear you."

He's guiding his friend as he talks, leading him through the corridors, hoping he doesn't notice that this is not the way to his quarters. McKay's skin is as ice and Carson is anxious to get him safe and warm. Some might call it mollycoddling but Carson knows it is just being a good friend and doctor. He realizes McKay hasn't replied to the idle threat so his own pace quickens until he is pulling the physicist forward. A few minutes later and McKay is wrapped in a blanket, snoring softly as drool drips from his parted lips. He's not even sure Rodney noticed that this isn't his room.

"Bridgette, could you please check Dr. McKay's blood-sugar for me while I check on Major Lorne?" he asks as he rubs his own tired eyes. Life in the Pegasus Galaxy has its moments, but no one would deny it is taxing. And tomorrow will be another day of danger; there is no doubting that. No time for rest.

SGA

The subconscious is often skilled at realizing things that the conscious mind is unable to grasp. Even though he is softly snoring and a nightmare is floating in the periphery, McKay is aware something is wrong. His eyes bolt open as the itchy sheets rub against his body. A nearby machine beeps in an awkward tempo that is all too familiar to the scientist. He hears the sounds of shuffling feet as he turns to see a pale-faced Lorne sound asleep on the adjacent bed. For a moment, McKay is pleased to see that it is not his own heart hooked up to the monitor, but rather the major's. He doesn't have time to feel guilty for the thought before a figure blocks his view.

"You're looking much better. How are you feelin', Rodney?"

He doesn't remember coming here, but there is a clear image in his mind of sleeping on a pier, again. He runs a quick tally of his body, searching for any reason he would have ended up in the infirmary. He's still a bit weary, but otherwise fine. An IV has been attached to his wrist and he wonders if he's fainted once again. "Well enough. What am I doing here?"

"You weren't looking too good last night, so I dragged you here. And a good thing too. Your blood-sugar level was dangerously low and you were freezing cold. You need to be taking better care of yourself."

He probably should answer that, but he is groggy and he is still having a hard time focusing on the Scottish blur before him. What time is it anyway? Oh God, he didn't miss the mission did he? He is looking forward to finally getting out again, and yet he isn't. He looks to Carson who is now squeezing his shoulder while smiling down at him.

"Don't worry. Sheppard wouldn't leave you behind and I would have woken you up if he tried."

As if on cue, John's voice can be heard from just outside the infirmary. It is still too muffled to make out, and McKay can sense his own weary body falling back into nothingness. But he forces himself to stay awake as his teammates make their entrance. The IV drips in a methodical pattern and for a brief moment he wishes it was the enzyme pouring into his body, before forcing the disturbing thought away, not even sure where it came from.

"Well, we've got three of us. Don't ask me where McKay is but he better get his… Oh…" The Colonel's jaw is hanging just a little, even as he assumes his _I'm worried but I'm pretending not to be bothered_ cross-armed pose. "What's going on?" He looks from doctor to teammate taking in the brunt of the situation. He looks like a child about to be deprived of his favorite toy. An injured member means grounding for the whole team.

"It's alright, Colonel. Rodney seems to have forgotten to eat yesterday and then fell asleep on the pier." He's passing meaningful glances to the team, asking them to continue the berating when he is done. Warning them to keep an eye on him. "He's fine now so provided you're all as healthy as I know you are, you can still go through the gate today."

Sheppard is noticeably relieved, his stance just a bit more relaxed. "You're sure you're up for this?" He examines McKay, and the physicist does not flinch from his penetrating gaze. The soldier's mind is calculating, trying to figure out if his teammate is ready for the field. No matter how anxious Sheppard is, he will not endanger the team by pushing things too quickly. He takes a few more seconds after McKay's nod to come to a decision, his face lighting up with anticipation. "Good. Let's get this over with then." His famous boyish smile shines on his face as he jumps onto the nearest bed.

Teyla and Ronon do the same, but the Athosian stops first to put her hand on McKay's other shoulder. "If you do not feel up for the mission, do not feel that you must go." She speaks with a diplomatic tone even when dealing with her surrogate family. She smiles down at him and he tries to smile back.

"No, I'm good," McKay says. _I just sleepwalk while trying to freeze myself to death. Any half-grown ape can see that I'm fine. Really. I can hold my own._ He is glad no one can hear his silent addendum even as he remembers how strong the enzyme made him feel. Again, he thrusts the thought away, reminding himself that it's just an illusion, that the drug made him weak and not strong. But that is not what his body remembers.

These missions are what men like John Sheppard live for and even if McKay never admits it aloud, he's beginning to feel the same. Still, as McKay hears Carson give him the all clear, his stomach falls. Another day through the gate is just another chance for him to get captured or injured, or worse—to get someone else hurt with his own weaknesses. He's tired of everyone protecting him, of being a liability. But he also knows that he has his own roles to play, the grander part of science in the grand scheme of things. The others can shoot, but he can think. He doesn't have to fight.

Sheppard is asking him if he is ready to go and he hears his own voice give some snide remark, but inside he is trembling.

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. Dual Spaces

_Thanks to all who left, or tried to leave, reviews. I will give you all an extra helping of soup. I understand this site has been fickel in term of letting people review lately. _

_Again, a special thanks to all my betas who seasoned this story with hard work and love. You are all awesome and shall receive extra pudding cups._

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Chapter Two: Dual Spaces 

Sheppard's feet sink into a field of crystallized dirt as he rubs his aching shoulders. The sun on this planet is a killer and he is almost to the point of accepting McKay's SPF 100 sunscreen. Almost. Despite McKay's insistence that it contains the refreshing aroma of coconut, the stuff smells worse than the manure at his uncle's farm. It's ninety-nine percent sure to repel any woman, which is really the last thing he wants to do. That was something they had failed to mention to him when he signed up for this assignment, the distinct lack of people to interact with on a non-platonic level. Though some of the alien girls were...interesting if not hot. Too bad most of them were plotting against him.

His mind wanders only so far as he keeps the P-90 steady within his grasp. Preliminary scans showed people a few miles away, but that doesn't mean there aren't any hanging around here. Never trust a life signs detector as full proof, it was something every mother should teach their kids. And a lesson Sheppard is well acquainted with.

Beside him, McKay is tossing away branches while staring at his own devices. The black trees are covered in a purple moss that looks sort of twig-like, just have to be careful of the prickly red bits that cover half the foliage. McKay is intent on his scans and if any of the spikes have attacked the scientist's skin, he sure doesn't seem to realize it. Without notice, because when did the guy every give any, McKay stops abruptly in his tracks and shakes the machine within his hand. "Huh. Now that is odd."

Every bad situation starts with words like those so Sheppard comes to halt with Ronon and Teyla doing the same, each watching a different part of their surroundings. Sheppard is in full alert mode now, acutely aware of the birds chirping, or flying-cat-type creatures with glider wings wailing to be more accurate, and all other sounds within the forest. He watches McKay with his peripheral vision, noting the scowl on the scientist's face.

"What's up?"

McKay is hitting his scanner now and it gives out a sort of constrained screech that Sheppard is sure he has never heard from it before. Definitely not good.

"Something is jamming the signal here." He says the line with no fear in his voice, too intent on the technology to realize the possible implications. But give it another second and panic mode will have kicked in. It just wouldn't be a mission without McKay freaking out at least once.

They stay silent as Rodney continues his scans, knowing that he'll give them more information when he has it. Or rather, when he finds a chance to.

"Whatever is doing this, it's coming from that direction." Without waiting for an okay, McKay brushes back one of the branches as a trail of purple fluff follows in his path.

Sheppard follows close by, the mission going as so many had before. But he is still uneasy as he watches McKay's hunched shoulders, the way the scientist stops every few seconds as though forgetting what he is doing. Even with a new toy to find, the guy looks tired. Fact is, much as John doesn't want to admit it, McKay is a liability on this excursion. Carson and Kate have only cleared him with the knowledge that they've done all they can, and McKay just has to get out there and live now. Whether he is addicted, hell, whether any of the flagship team is, only time will tell. Sheppard wants to believe that the enzyme events are in their past, but his gut knows better. No, he won't forget that McKay chose to overdose, that he needs to keep a watch on him, and he has warned Teyla and Ronon of the same. Try as Rodney might to pretend he is okay, everyone knows he is still struggling with his choice and probably will be for a while.

His reverie does not distract him from the task at hand. He is acutely aware of the crunching noise their boots make as they smash into the spherical, orange dirt clusters that litter the ground. His palm is slippery against his weapon and the mugginess leaves him weary. But he trudges ahead, his eyes poised to catch the slightest of movements.

Sheppard is sure that he hears a distinct crunch that does not come from any of his team followed by a distinct swoosh from some ways ahead. He holds out a hand to halt his team, and of course Rodney doesn't get the message and is still walking. Sheppard bolts forward and puts a steadying hand on McKay's shoulders. The scientist has gotten better at this, he doesn't ask any questions, just stands still. Through the dense trees men's voices can be heard.

The first one is deep and energetic, and even from the distance Sheppard can hear the laughter in his retorts. "Please, you can't expect to defeat me with a frenzied stance."

The second voice is higher and far more serious and constrained. "You laugh now, but when you are dead it shall be I filled with mirth."

"Ah, so you wish to murder me, do you? And what would the king have to say to that?"

"I answer to no man."

Steel meets steel and although Sheppard still cannot witness the battle taking place, the ringing is just right for a pair of swords. He motions for his team to move closer. The swift movement of a rapier catches his eyes just as the younger voice cries out in pain.

"Shouldn't we do something?" McKay's voice is panicky but that's not what bothers Sheppard. He passes his teammate an admonishing stare, warning the other into silence. McKay was great to have in a crunch, but how many times must he take _The Field 101_ before he learns to shut his mouth. Scientists who have never been in these situations before, they have an excuse. But McKay has a year and a half of experience under his belt now. For a genius, it sure is taking him a long time to catch on.

"Let's not go rushing into anything," he whispers. His P-90 lies ready in his hands. He was never one to sit and wait, always acting on instinct, but finding a balance in Pegasus is more difficult than one might think. It is hard to know friend or foe and that is a lesson the galaxy is unrelenting in teaching them. No, this appears to be a good old-fashioned duel with both parties taking part of their own free will. Better not to interrupt.

The two men are now within his sight, fighting in a circular clearing of the forest that is covered in a bluish green dust. The unbearable heat creates imaginary waves, and it is as though the two men are standing on still water. He moves back one of the branches only to feel one of the red needles pierce through his skin. He does not flinch nor bring his hand up to examine the damage, but continues to brush the tree away from his view.

Of the two men, one of them is a good five inches shorter than the other. His slender figure is youthful as though he still has some years to grow into his full body. His white shirt poofs out from his scrawny shoulders, and Sheppard notices that both of the duelists have sarongs hanging from their waists, though the older gentleman wears a flatter, more decorative shirt filled with images of the alien foliage. The teenager's sleeve is covered in blood, and he has taken to fighting only with his left arm, in which he is clearly not skilled. With the stubbornness of youth he flings forward only to have the older gentleman parry the blow with a chuckle.

"Have you had enough entertainment for the day, or perhaps you should like your right arm to better match your left. I am more that willing to oblige you."

"I shall not cease until your blood litters the ground." The boy takes the defensive, taking steps back while eyeing the blade with a mixture of determination and fear. Hate resonates from of his body as he glares daggers at the man before him. Sheppard knows that look—knows that feeling—for he has seen it in himself. This teen will fight to the death, even if it is his own. Luckily, the other fellow seems far jollier with another familiar expression, and Sheppard realizes that this man will not allow a death to occur tonight. They were right not to interfere, but he continues to watch.

"You fight well for your age but you cannot hope to take on a captain kingsman so early in life. Cease this charade and I shall teach you what it is to fight properly. No one need be dishonored or murdered here tonight, and the king can keep his suspicions to himself."

"Neither of us care about the king and his edicts, or we would not be here tonight. No, I will exchange your life for my sisters. You would do well to fear me." He raises his sword once more and Sheppard cannot help but also laugh at the man's audacity.

"Hardly. I fear no man. Not even those watching us from the woods. I say there," the man calls while turning towards the trees. "Are you kingsmen? If so, I must warn you that I shall not give without a fight." His grin is wide, covering a good quarter of his round face. The child is still indignant, though his terror is apparent, but the man pretends not to notice.

Rodney's countenance mirrors the boy's. Sheppard can hear the silent question his friend asks with those wide eyes. Their cover is blown so why aren't they moving. McKay moves to speak the words aloud but Sheppard motions for silence once more. "Wait it out a moment longer." He uses his hands to order Teyla to take up the left flank and Ronon the right. If they are going to show themselves, they are going to be in a position to fight.

The younger one does a poor job of hiding his fear when he speaks next. "What means of distraction is this? I see no army."

"That is because you lack the wisdom of years, my friend. It shall come in time."

"You dare to condescend me?" The boy flings himself forward once more.

The man expertly parries the blow with another laugh, waving the kid off with his other hand. "Be still already, there is trouble about."

Sheppard watches all of this as though it is a wrestling match. The problem is that this is real and the other is not. McKay, Teyla, and Ronon all silently offer him their approval to move out into the open. He speaks with his hands, telling them to stay covered, and then lowers his P-90 while putting on his best diplomatic smile.

"I don't suppose you could show us the way to the nearest village?"

SGA

The nearest village, as it turns out, is still a few miles away. McKay grumbles. The arch on his foot stretches painfully with each step forward. Eventually the dense forest ends and fields of mustard yellow extend before them. Even after a year and a half of this, he hasn't gotten used to the exercise and he doesn't much care to either. The dirt clusters have been replaced by an iron-red path, complete with holes just small enough not to be seen while large enough to cause an injury or two. The hue is enzyme-like in appearance, as though the drug is coursing through the land's vein.

Removing his foot from the crevasse he wonders whether he has twisted or otherwise injured his ankle. Direct pressure hurts, but only a little. "Someone really should fix this you know. Hasn't anyone sued you yet for negligent care of your streets?" As he has a good mile more of this to walk, he passes glares to his teammates. This is not going to be a good day.

"Relax, McKay, we're almost there."

"Yes, as I can see by the large void in front of us, we must almost be at the village. How silly of me not to notice."

McKay pays little mind to the conversations going on around him, focusing more on the scans and not killing himself by falling in a pothole than on the annoying pleasantries that come with meeting alien cultures. He does notice, however, that the two men who had been so intent on killing each other earlier are now laughing wildly while conversing with the rest of his team.

"Young Fronier here seems to think I'm responsible for his sister's unfortunate fall from power. He decided the old fashioned way was the best to give me a piece of his mind."

"You know full well, Galois, that Epina would never have been disgraced were it not for your fiendish dealings." Fronier crosses his arms angrily, wincing at the pain it causes.

"Dealings you had no qualms taking part in some nights ago, if I recall. Perhaps you should slay yourself, Fronier?"

"I have an idea, why don't you just stop killing altogether?" Sheppard asks. His weapon is lowered, pointing toward the ground at an angle.

"And what would be the fun in that?" Galois emphasizes his remark with a friendly jab in Teyla's arm offering her a grin that any man knows well. McKay can tell a ladies man when he sees one, working with Kirk helps in that respect, and Galois is definitely a player. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on the stranger before returning to his readings.

Teyla, for her part, nods gently at Galois's flirtations, but makes no attempt to either encourage or dissuade him. Instead she turns to look at the fields covered in_ torrin_, an elongated vegetable she tells them is common to Athos. "You have a beautiful land."

It is hard not to notice the shiftiness in the villagers' eyes as they come upon the town's borders. Decrepit stone buildings align several feet of pavement and the stench of putrid human waste hangs heavily in the air. Everyone here is dressed in a light denim-like fabric, covered with hastily patched holes. Their weary expressions reveal a thousand tales, as does the red dust smudged across their faces. McKay instinctively moves closer to Ronon as though expecting to be protected from the ghetto dwellers.

Galois smiles and waves at each passing soul, occasionally nodding his head and exchanging pleasantries. Though McKay can't be sure, there seems to be an underlying meaning in the man's words, something that leaves him uneasy. It doesn't help that the boy is nervously fidgeting with his new shirt, which now covers his freshly bandaged wound.

Everyone they pass seems just as uptight as the poor kid, and though this could just be from strangers entering with alien weapons, McKay wonders what intrigue is taking place beneath the surface. Since meeting the Genii he has learned not to take cultures at their face value and to always be aware.

"Greetings, Leiben. All is well, I trust." Galois offers his hand to a round, jolly man with bright green eyes. His house stands noticeably taller, its doorway adorned with fine silk. So they have left the ghetto for some middle-class area. McKay notices that the men around him in sarongs carry themselves higher than the rest, the clothing clearly marking a social status. Leiben wears a pair of denim overalls over a flowery printed shirt. McKay wonders briefly how many off-earth cultures have discovered the fabric, because he sure hasn't seen it before in Pegasus.

Leiben takes Galois's offered hand, shaking it with great enthusiasm. The purple cord atop his felt hat falls in front of his eyes and he blows it away only to have it come back and swat him. Brushing it back, he examines his visitors. "I am well enough. But who are these gentlemen?"

"Strangers in search of trade. May I introduce you to Sheppard, McKay, Teyla, and Ronon."

"Have you not told them, my dear Galois, to return in a fortnight with the rest of the traders?"

McKay checks his scanner once more, as he listens to the side conversation. His brow furrows, but he says nothing aloud. When they are away from their new hosts, he can talk freely. He wonders if he can rig the Ancient's version of a tricorder to pick up enzyme readings. The calculations are nonsensical in his mind before a change in Galois' voice breaks McKay out of the reverie.

"Come now, what day is not good for a trade?" the man asks with a harsh tone.

"Of course. Forgive me, much has weighed on my mind lately. We are glad to welcome you to our humble estate," Leiben replies, making sure to offer each of Atlantis's flagship team a significant glance.

McKay can take a hint. He is more than happy to leave, maybe there is still time to go back and find the jamming device, but Sheppard motions that he wants to continue. Stupid colonels and their need to walk into dangerous situations, someone should really medicate him for that. Or lock him in a padded room at the very least.

The tension in the town is almost palpable now, but Sheppard continues to stroll forward. It is at times like this that McKay appreciates Ronon as a team member; it's like having a personal bodyguard.

His mind floods back to his dream, the way Ronon had just turned and left, abandoning him with the wraith. How Sheppard had told him to buckle down and learn to protect himself. And although the memories are not real, he is not ignorant to their validity. It is just a fact here in Pegasus, you have to know how to defend yourself. You cannot be weak and you have to be aware. And you sure shouldn't walk into an ambush when it is staring you in the face. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" he asks for the hundredth time.

Sheppard only responds with an eye roll, and McKay knows that he will risk danger to find new allies. They all will. Every world has its own sense of peril and Sheppard believes they can't just run away at the first signs of it or they won't accomplish anything. No, the only way to find friends and new technologies is to throw yourself full force into the situation while preparing to fight at a moments notice. And knowing all of this, McKay still follows the colonel through the gate. Maybe it means he's insane, or maybe he's just learning to love the adventure.

His tensions only increase as he watches Fronier, or some name annoyingly complicated like that, nodding in agreement. "The king will be excited to meet with you but it would be wise to keep the meeting short."

Galois looks back at the teenager with a lecturing stare, silently communicating something that McKay just doesn't understand, but gets the gist of well enough. Despite what people might say, he can be observant when he wants to be. "We are here, at any rate. I shall make the proper announcements to King Frobinius if you wait for just one moment."

Some minutes later they're all in a giant, stone banquet hall, looking at a ten-year-old boy who is, as they are told, the leader of the Cartesian people. Too bad he appears to have the temperament of a spoiled brat. His team bows with an assembly of Hawaiian-shirt, sarong-wearing snobs, but McKay is too lost in his scanner to notice until Sheppard's arm comes crashing ungracefully onto his back and the scientist has no choice but to follow suit.

King Frobinius approaches them with a childish grin, because he really is only a kid, holding closely to his mother's arm. He screams something or other about not wanting to meet with strangers today and wishing everyone would just go away, with a few kicking and punching movements for emphasis. His mother sighs, managing to smile and sneer at the same time. She whispers something fiercely to the monarch and McKay wonders if she realizes her long nose is sticking in the poor kid's ear.

At her words, the boy stiffens. His composure is more of a kings as he steps forward. But he is still just a child and McKay can't believe he is bowing before the brat. "Captain Galois tells me you are travelers from the gate."

"That's right. I'm Colonel John Sheppard, this is Dr. Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, and Teyla Emmagen."

"Welcome to our land. I'm afraid our trading show doesn't start for some time now, but feel free to enjoy our hospitality for as long as you wish."

Nobody here is covered in red dirt and while shifty expressions abound, McKay notices a distinct lack of discomfort compared to what he has seen outside. Perhaps the people here are just better at making their intrigues more subtle, just like their personalities. No one is smiling and half the people are carbon copies of the other half. Probably the result of inbreeding. Many of them share the king's mother's nose. Maybe they'll invent rhinoplasty in a few thousand centuries and thus fix the nasal tinge in their tones.

McKay's mind refuses to focus, his hand occasionally grabbing onto his right arm. He hears little of the diplomatic discussion. As they make their way out of the village, the crimson sun falling against the mustard yellow horizon, he can pick up the finer details from Sheppard and Teyla's discussions.

"Well, if I've ever seen a culture hiding something, that would be it." Sheppard's P-90 is still in his hand as is the Ancient sensor still in McKay's. The ground crunches against the pressure of his boots, the spheres now wrapped in a crystal ice layer. Had the road been smooth, they likely would have fallen over by now. As it is, the team is still struggling not to fall into the hidden holes masked by the dirt clusters.

"They did seem tense."

"Seem open enough to trade though."

Only half-listening, McKay remembers what he was waiting to tell them. "When we left the jamming field I started picking up some energy signatures. They definitely have some technology hiding about."

The walk to the puddle jumper is longer than McKay remembers but by the time they arrive, the team manages to discuss everything from uptight villagers to bratty kids leading entire nations. The team has been invited to return in a few weeks when the Cartesians' great trade show takes place. But Sheppard isn't ready to leave, curious about the readings McKay had mentioned earlier. Jamming devices and energy readings always warrant further exploration. The thought of new toys keeps McKay from complaining too much.

He's able to determine the radius of the jamming field before the sun has completely fallen. Sheppard starts the fire and calls first watch while McKay tucks his instruments safely away. "Stupid rough floor," he mumbles as he hears Ronon and Teyla divide up the rest of the time. McKay doesn't take a watch. He never does. Nor does he believe it to be in his job description. But maybe that's just because he is weak.

SGA

He raises the knife above his victim, watching as it tears through the skin. Anticipation burns at his lips as he milks the Wraith of its precious enzyme. In a few moments he will be strong and all will be safe again. He can handle anything with a little help. But even as it flows through his system, tremors consume him. How many times can he choose this road without losing his soul? It is a strange question; perhaps because he does not believe in a non-corporeal spirit, even if he can feel it darken within him.

Once again, he knows that this is a dream, but the sound of screaming has made him forget. He is driven by instinct and a need to protect. He welcomes the chemical, and how it makes him feel—become—stronger. A grin crosses his face as he wonders briefly if he can take on Ronon in this new condition, but he quickly shoves the thought away. He must get to the children. He must make the Wraith pay.

He races down the narrow corridor, guided only by the terrified screams. At last he comes to a door, knowing full well that man and beast lie behind the splintered wood. He clenches his fists before shoving the door away like a broken piece of equipment. It takes all he has to concentrate on the task ahead, saving miniature brats from a fate he wouldn't even wish on Kolya.

A girl in tight braids has fallen to the floor, the force already drawn from her body. A boy lies a few feet ahead, holding his head high as a scaly hand clenches against his chest. McKay does not know who these kids are, or where they came from, probably will never know their names, but the loss sickens him to the stomach even as the enzyme provides for his needs.

"No!" He runs forward, knocking the Wraith away only to get thrown feet in the air and land by three bodies he missed seeing before. Sheppard's face is crystal white, paved in unfamiliar wrinkles as though the skin has shriveled away from the bone. He is too late. The boy's scream rattles through the night but even with half a pint of enzyme raging through his system, McKay cannot move. Everything is lost in a dizzying swirl as he collapses on the ground, reminding himself that this is just a dream. _Wake up. Oh god, just let me wake up!_

His blood is burning and he knows that it is not the enzyme that has failed him but his inability to get to it quick enough. He should have taken it before; he should never have hesitated. Everyone is dead, even the boy that lies feet away in the body of an old man, and soon McKay will join them. _Just let me wake up._

"If we hadn't had to protect you, we would still be alive." Ronon was never one to beat around the bush, always willing to state an unpopular opinion when it needed to be said. Apparently this was even true in death as McKay was staring directly at the wide-open eyes that were filled with nothing other than a vast emptiness. And although the runner's lips are still, Rodney also knows it is Ronon doing the talking.

McKay also knows his teammate is right. If only he had been able to fight, none of them would be in this mess. The kids would be alive and he would never have caused the death of his team. But wishes are not fishes and his weaknesses have destroyed the others.

The enzyme fogs his vision as he continues to pray for this to be a dream, starting to wonder if maybe this time he has made a mistake, if maybe everything happening around him is real and there is no end to the madness but death. If only he hadn't hesitated. He welcomes the Wraith's hand as it tears away his uniform. McKay has all but murdered his friends and he deserves to pay. He is tired of fighting.

"Rodney." The whispering voice comes from the dead for McKay has seen Sheppard's lifeless body. He remembers causing his death. But this voice is not like Ronon's. It does not berate him but rather calls softly as a gentle breeze. Holding to that voice, McKay begins to see what was always there.

Sheppard is shaking his arm gently. He kneels beside McKay's blue sleeping bag that is sprawled near the soft flames of a slowly dying fire, but McKay's adrenaline is on overload and the non sequitur won't process. "What's going on?" He flinches away from the colonel's grasp, his gaze falling upon a sleeping Teyla and Ronon. "What happened to the Wraith? Why aren't you dead?" He doesn't have to see Sheppard's expression to know he sounds crazy.

The words resound within his head as disorientation shifts into reality. He was asleep. The nameless kids never existed and he is alive. His heart races and he reminds himself that it is safe to breathe now. The cold air flows gently into his lungs and it feels great, but not near as terrific as knowing that his friends are okay.

"Easy, McKay. You just had one hell of a nightmare. There aren't any wraith here. Not right now, anyway."

"A nightmare. Yes of course, I was…" He feels embarrassed but doesn't know how to hide it. Even in the most dire of situations he can usually come up with a snide remark, but none come to mind as he allows his sentence to drift. He finds himself grabbing at his arm again, feeling the area where the needle had pierced his skin in several successful attempts. He wishes he had never met Ford or the enzyme, or the wraith for that matter. Life was simpler before Pegasus and after his time here he will never know peace again. They forgot to write that in his contract.

"You gonna be okay?" Sheppard takes a seat beside him, his face lit by a faint orange glow. He has yet to let go of McKay's shoulder and Rodney wonders if John can feel him tremble.

A person is an addict if and only if they feel an overwhelming compulsion to keep taking the drug. If the colonel were to offer him some of the enzyme right now, he wouldn't take it. Therefore he is not an addict, which implies he shouldn't be treated like one. Thus his dreams shouldn't bother him. So clearly there is nothing to discuss. Therefore he must be okay. QED.

He leaves the silent proof for Sheppard to figure out on his own, stating the conclusion in the clearest way he knows how. "I had a nightmare, hardly qualifies as debilitating, now does it?" Yellow sparks shoot into the air. As a child he used to shy away from them, convinced that they would set him on fire. But he has spent many nights off-world now and the distinct crackles are soothing in the darkness.

Sheppard doesn't answer immediately, and McKay isn't ignorant to the way his team leader avoids his gaze. "The second you took the enzyme, whether you were right or wrong, you became a liability."

"I'm not an addict and we are not having this conversation. If you didn't think I should be here you shouldn't have brought me. It was your call if I remember correctly." Why was he so angry?

"I just need to know where you stand, that's all. I went to bat for you and told Elizabeth you can handle this. If you can't… You haven't exactly been yourself lately."

"Oh really? And who have I been_exactly_? General Landry perhaps or maybe Samantha Carter. She would be an interesting person to be for a while, although I'd have to deal with the limited brain capacity."

"I'm serious, Rodney. If you aren't up for a mission right now, you need to tell me so we can pack up and go. No one will hold it against it you. But if you're not okay and you don't tell me, and we end up in some stupid situation because you're freaking out, I will have no choice but to remove you from the team. I don't want to, and I'm hoping you won't make it come to that, but I can't take people out in the field who won't trust me."

McKay doesn't answer at first but he can feel the burn within his stomach lining. It's not as if Sheppard trusts him, so what's the big deal if the thought is reciprocated? He catches his friend's hazel gaze and McKay knows that he is afraid. They both are. Too many rifts and junctions have been set upon their paths and McKay doesn't doubt that Sheppard means his little threat, so much so McKay thinks of answering with sincerity.

But memories of the drug flood through his brain. He has no access to it, so aren't all points moot? He shifts awkwardly, knowing that he can't lie to save his own ass. But the thought of never going through the gate again… If he turns back now, what if they never let him return? If they knew how weak he really is, he would never be here in the first place.

"I said I'm good and I can do this. Nothing's changed that I'm aware of." He tries to add sarcasm to his voice, but the attempt fails miserably. He hasn't been himself for a quite a while now and it just takes too much energy to snark. It's not that he is lying, it's just that overdosing on drugs tends to take its toll on people. He's okay. Really, he is. _Can't even convince yourself can you?_

Sheppard flinches before locking stares. "I guess that settles it then. Go to bed, we have a long day ahead of us."

END CHAPTER TWO

END PART ONE

_Reviews always welcome. Come eat cake with me, I just graduated with a BS in Mathematics!  
_


	3. Separation

_Thanks once again to my betas and thanks to those that reviewed._

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PART TWO: Intrigue

Chapter 3: Separation

A dense fog drifts among the trees which makes Ronon uneasy. The purple moss is all but invisible in the night and only a few black branches are lit by the fire's glow. They could have gone back to Atlantis and returned the next day, but Ronon suspects Sheppard's affinity for the forest and team-bonding has led them to stay here, just meters outside of the jamming field. Ronon doesn't mind because he likes the outdoors, even more so when he doesn't have to run. Atlantis was well enough to stay in, but the wilderness has been his home for longer.

He takes the second watch as Teyla settles herself into bed and falls instantly asleep. McKay is tossing across from her, and Ronon wonders whether he should wake the physicist up, but then decides not to. A person can learn a lot about themselves while they are asleep. Nightmares are not to be feared but contemplated.

Stretching his legs, he comes to stand at his full height. The Atlanteans are a short people and that still takes some getting used to. But here among the trees, he is the small one. He looks up into the indigo sky, but sees mostly clouds hovering over the frosted tree tops. He always loved the night as a child and this has carried with him into adulthood. He can hear the occasional howl or wail from Cartesia's creatures, but it is relatively quiet. This too makes him uneasy.

There is a feeling he gets, deep down in his stomach, like the sinking sensation that arises when jumping from a great height, and he has learned to listen to this feeling as though it were a blaring alarm. Something is not right.

He wishes he could see further than ten feet in front of him, as he rubs his hands above the flames. Just one more way Cartesia reminds him of Sateda, extreme weather in both directions. In the daytime, the sun is sure to boil you while at night its absence will freeze you. Despite what McKay would say, it's not the world trying to destroy them, but rather nature making man stronger. Without strength you are nothing. Carefully attuned senses are integral to survival and that's why one can't be too careful. That's why Ronon doesn't like spending too much time on Atlantis. It's too safe there.

He throws a moss-covered log onto the fire, watching as sparks fly high into the air. His companions do not stir and yet he is sure that something cracked other than the flames. Keeping himself still is effortless after seven years running. He listens and watches, but he will not allow himself to move. Another distinct crunch sounds from behind him, even as Ronon's hand falls to his weapon. In an instant he is already facing the other direction, hidden behind the nearest tree.

Even through the fog he can see the shadows move. There are at least four men, maybe five walking some meters away. They are all wearing hooded cloaks and glancing warily around them as though afraid of being seen. One of them catches sight of the fire and leans to whisper to another. The men's pace increase, but away from the team's camp. Before they disappear into the fog, Ronon notices one of the figures is only as short as half an Earthman and he is being pulled forward by two figures that tower above him. The short one is struggling to free himself when he is swept into the arms of a captor.

If the Wraith were still on his tail, a tracking device still attached to his back, and there was no one to cover for him, Ronon would not feel a need to get involved. But these people he works with are fixated on helping others and Sheppard would want to know about that scene. Ronon doesn't have to agree in order to honor the silent wish.

It only takes a moment to rouse his teammates. Sheppard and Teyla are already on their feet, preparing to fight even before Ronon offers an explanation. McKay doesn't wake at first, his brow covered in sweat; he mumbles something under his breath about superman, whoever that is. Ronon gently shakes his teammate once more and McKay's eyes shoot open with fear. Clearly unaware of his surroundings, Rodney's arm is lifted to fight but Ronon's reflexes are quick and he steadies his friend while restraining the man's wrist. "Calm down. You're okay."

He's awakened the scientist from sleep before, but never to find the scientist violent. Nightmares do that to a person though, cloud reality. Hard to know what is real or not when the shadows first slip away. But even as McKay struggles, realization softens his features. He grows still and then looks at Ronon in horror, a new fear growing in his eyes. "Oh god, I'm sorry. I thought you were a Wraith. I..."

Ronon laughs a bit, knowing full well why McKay is afraid now. To these people, the Satedans are giants and Ronon knows just how intimidating he can look. He has used that to his advantage more than once. But he knows McKay was just asleep and Ronon has no reason to want to hurt him, although it is fun to watch the scientist back away from him in terror. It's a good thing to be feared.

"Relax. You're fine." He lets go of the wrist, noticing that he left a distinct red mark against McKay's pale skin. He had meant to be gentle but it is difficult to lessen his force. He moves his grip to McKay's hands, helping him to his feet.

"Think you grabbed me hard enough? What the hell were you trying to do, break my wrist?" McKay must have decided he is safe because he is already making snide remarks. It is what the scientist does. Ronon still isn't sure why he hasn't yet hit McKay out of annoyance.

Ignoring the complaints, Ronon turns to Sheppard, catching the edge of some glance he doesn't quite understand. There is a general sense of unease to this planet but it is nothing compared to the unease in Sheppard's unguarded expression, before he hides it with a soldier's mask. "What's up?" he asks, surveying the surroundings.

"There's something happening here. Five figures passed by. They saw our fire before disappearing in the fog."

"Were they headed this way?"

"No. But at least one of them wasn't going willingly."

He explains about the half-sized man and the dark cloaks as the others ready their weapons. He isn't surprised to hear Sheppard decide to go after them. These people just didn't know how to mind their own business. Ronon still isn't' sure if that is a good thing or not.

"All right, Ronon and I will go and check this out. Teyla, you and McKay stay here."

His breath hangs in the air as he races across the frosted orange ground. It's hard to be quiet with the dirt crunching beneath him, but he does his best. Even among the fallen clouds, he can see the sky turn to a paler blue. Water drips from the red needles. Morning is about to make an entrance. At least that will make his job easier.

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to hide their tracks." You had to be looking carefully to notice the slight imprint on the ground and even the best of soldiers might still miss it, but Ronon is skilled—or lucky—enough to see the slight rim. There are no footprints before, beside or ahead of him, just clusters of spherical dirt. He's not even sure he can cover his own tracks that well on this planet.

"You got something?"

"Footprints."

"We're in the jamming range now. We'll have to work with the life signs detector."

"My way works too."

He walks ahead without further comment, knowing that Sheppard is following closely behind. He had been lucky, catching the trail so quickly. Given the pace of the mysterious shadows, Ronon is confident they can catch up. But the trail before him is abstract at best. His instincts say go forty-five degrees toward his left, so he does, knowing that his instincts rarely lead him astray. Five minutes pass before he sees the next imprint and through the cracks of the trees he can see something else.

"Look ahead." He motions to his companion with his chin, noting that Sheppard is out of breath. Ronon forgets sometimes that the others aren't as quick as him. But nothing annoys him more than slowing down and he won't do any of the Atlanteans a favor by going easy on them, the Wraith sure won't.

"Take a look."

Ronon brushes back some thick branches, barely noticing the prickly foliage as it sticks into his skin. He is reminded of the images of Sateda he saw back on Atlantis. Buildings broken as though lying on their sides in crumpled heaps. Purple moss covering pale-white stone. The sun is in the horizon and the clouds a few feet above the ground so he can see the ruins in their entirety. And the forest is still quiet, except for some whispering voices that can't be more than a meter away. That's when they hear a bone-chilling scream clearly coming from a child.

"Let me go! My mother will..."

The plan is agreed upon in silence. Ronon will scout ahead while Sheppard watches his back. It's not elaborate by any means, but it has served them will before. Ronon nods that he understands and begins to move forward just as a white light flashes from one of the disheveled buildings. The voices have stopped completely now as Ronon locks stares with Sheppard. "Transporter," Ronon whispers before racing toward the ruins.

SGA

He can't believe that he nearly attacked Ronon. No person in their right mind would try to take on a towering giant with a bite worse than his growl. And Ronon could seriously growl. And yet, Rodney McKay, genius that he is, nearly found himself walloped thanks to another one of those gruesome nightmares. Sure, Ronon seemed to understand that McKay didn't mean any harm, but Rodney also didn't miss the look Sheppard was passing around.

The conversation was still a bit hazy in his mind, but he can still remember the comforting glow of the firelight even when their earlier conversation was as uneasy as they could come. Truth be told, he is surprised anyone cleared him for duty what with the sleepwalking. What if he just marched himself right into a Wraith camp while snoring? Now wouldn't that just be a fitting end? No, he knows his teammates would keep watch on him, not letting things escalate that far, but that doesn't stop him from being thoroughly annoyed. Sheppard has been watching him as though expecting his overtaxed mind to reach critical mass and explode. Who knows, maybe it will. It sure came close back when he was high.

Teyla is examining him through the glow of the fire. Even as she concentrates on making sure they are safe, she is worrying about him. "You did not sleep well."

"No. My back surprisingly prefers a comfortable mattress over damp, frozen ground. Thanks to Sheppard's infinite wisdom in keeping us here, I couldn't stop shivering the entire time. I mean really, what is the point?"

He is standing up while stretching, moving about, trying to keep her from staring at him. He can see the sun beginning its trip along the horizon, providing light and warmth to a dark and cold world. Sheppard and Ronon have been gone a while now.

"You did not slept well before this either."

He pretends not to hear her as he begins fiddling with the ear piece. "McKay to Sheppard, do you read." He is not surprised when no one answers as they haven't had contact since Sheppard mentioned they were passing into the jamming field. It was a perfect recipe for disaster but Sheppard just had to play hero. "McKay to Ronon, please respond." He catches glances with Teyla, wondering if they should go after them yet, or take the trek back to the gate in search of reinforcements. Anyone that can take down Ronon and Sheppard together is not a force McKay is ready to reckon with, not until he has significantly more help anyway, or the enzyme. Not that he is willing to use the latter, even if it would help.

"I am sure they are fine. We should wait a little while longer." But he can see the worry in her gentle eyes.

There is silence again for a while as McKay rubs his hands together. While not a stranger to the cold, he does not miss it. He shakes his palms, wishing the horrible stinging sensation to leave him alone. His hands were lightly frost-bitten years ago and they still never let him forget the pain. Stupid cold. Stupid hands. Stupid planet and stupid nightmares. He wishes there were something around to kick other than a tree that would surely break his foot. He wonders if maybe he is wrong. Maybe he really wasn't ready to go out on a mission yet, maybe he never will be. If only he wasn't so pathetic all the time.

Pulling out a powerbar, he fumbles with the wrapper, cursing softly when the stinging prevents him from completing the task. Images of his dream, his weaknesses, continue to flood through his mind and he can't seem to stop himself from shaking.

He tries to ignore the looks Teyla is giving him as she approaches, taking the wrapper in her hand and opening it for him. "You have not healed completely from the overdose," she says matter-of-factly in a gentle, soothing voice.

"And you have?" he snaps back, glaring in her general direction although he knows she doesn't deserve it. Was that a flinch he just saw from her?

"I did not overdose, but I would be lying if I said the enzyme did not still affect me. But I am allowing myself to heal."

"We should go after them. It's been too long already."

Her hand falls onto his shoulder and he is suddenly aware of how deeply he is breathing.

"Rodney."

He doesn't respond. Just sits there, finishing the last bite of the powerbar, avoiding turning his head, afraid of meeting her gaze. Though gentle, her hand is firm against him, keeping him from rising and gearing up.

"You do not have to face everything alone and you do not have to pretend you are alright. You should tell John that you are not ready for these missions."

A cacophony of emotions plays through his brain in a relentless confusion. He is furious with her for the suggestion. He's as fine as he is going to be so why can't they all just leave him alone. But the kindness she exudes quells his rage before it can even begin. God, he is tired. And damn it, he is not weak! "I'm fine. Really."

Her grasp lightens as she makes for her own gear. "You are as stubborn as the Colonel."

He is saved from a response by the crackle of his radio. "Rodney, Teyla, you there?"

"Where are you?" McKay asks, hiding his relief with an angry tone.

"Just a few meters away from your location. You should be able to see us on the life signs detector now. Gear up and get over here. There's something you are dying to see and just don't know it yet."

SGA

As it turns out, he really is dying to see it once Sheppard catches him up on the details. "Well it makes sense," McKay says, speaking at so fast a rate a police officer could probably pull him over for a speeding ticket, "the jamming device is probably Ancient, which means there is something worth hiding, which means we should find out what else is there." His grin is wide as he turns back to his team, all complaints of long walks now forgotten.

"And where that transporter goes."

"Yes, of course where the transporter goes. I'm betting, and we'll all soon find out that I am right, that that is where all the interesting equipment will be. Unless of course it's some horrible trap. In which case, we'll have escape kicking and screaming. Which isn't exactly out of the ordinary for us, now is it?" He gestures with his hands in the air a few dozen times while speaking as it helps get his point across. It also makes a decent outlet for enthusiasm.

His boots crunch against the ground, a mixture of mud, ice, and dirt clusters. His jacket now stowed in his pack, he walks while applying more of his special sunscreen to his fair skin. He ignores the annoyed stares from his teammates, never understanding people who couldn't take care of their basic needs for fear of how it would make them look, or smell in this case. Not that coconut is even a bad smell. The enzyme didn't smell like coconut, but it also didn't smell bad.

The fog is little more than a clear mist as he makes his way through the winding trails, pushing back the trees as he walks. "You don't think these little red things are poisonous do you?" He has tried to dig some of the needles out the day before which means he now has a slightly infected blister or two. Typical. It always has to be the minor injuries that plague him, and one of these days, one of them will probably kill him, possibly this one. He really has to stop going on these missions and start keeping to his nice, safe lab.

"You're fine, Rodney."

He can hear the tension in Sheppard's voice, but chooses to ignore it. His supposed friend's remark echoes in his ear from the night before. At least he's pretty sure they are friends but he's been wrong on that front before, and since Doranda, well, things have been complicated. _But if you're not okay and you don't tell me, and we end up in some stupid situation because you're freaking out, I will have no choice but to remove you from the team. _It wasn't exactly the kind of thing friends said to each other and Rodney is still fuming over the implications. As if the team could live without his technical know-how. If Sheppard can't deal with weakness he never should have put Rodney on the team in the first place, right? Not that Rodney is weak, just that, ah hell, just that he doesn't need this right now.

He is still deep in thought and clenching his fists when they finally arrive at the clearing. The purple moss covered ruins are an awe-filled sight to an archaeologist, but not to a physicist. He wonders about the nasty crawling things that are probably lurking under the rubble and about what other sanitary problems might lie there in. But the geek inside of him is jumping at a chance to find the transporter, the jamming device, and any other Ancient technology he can get his anxious hands on. This is his toy sand box and he gets paid a lot of money to play here.

He can barely hold together his enthusiasm as Ronon, Sheppard, and Teyla secure the ruins. The colonel leads him into the nearest hovel, which looks much the same on the inside as on the outside. Except he can see the local insects better. An elongated blue bug with a stinger pointing out from both the rear and front of its eight centimeter body crawls over the opposite wall, disappearing in a large gap.

"Oh, wonderful, you couldn't find a nice sterile lab could you? If I get stung and die, I'm blaming you. Let me just make that clear."

"I'll keep that in mind."

His Ancient equipment remains useless as he searches the abandoned dwelling for any sign of technology. After checking the walls for a tenth time and finding nothing, he is starting to wonder if Ronon and Sheppard were just hallucinating. "You're absolutely sure it was this...house."

"Yes, and I'm also sure it was a transporter."

"Right, because you are our local Ancient expert, right?" His voice sounds heated, but he isn't sure why or when it even got there, he was only going for a casual snide remark.

Of course, Sheppard responds in kind, stating his words as though speaking through gritted teeth. "No, but I have lived on Atlantis for sometime now and in case you haven't noticed, she has transporters. Which means I see them everyday and I'm going to recognize them when they show up in an alien environment."

"Well then, I'm sorry to disappoint you, _Colonel_--mainly because it means this little trek to the middle of nowhere was absolutely pointless-- but there is nothing here." This time he means the annoyance in his voice. He hasn't felt this tired since the Wraith invaded Atlantis and what he wouldn't give for a comfortable bed and decent food right now. The enzyme is like food, the way it gives a person strength.

"Just keep looking." Sheppard's voice is calmer as he leans against the nearest wall without checking for any eight-legged creatures that might be lurking nearby. It's what he doesn't say that Rodney notices. How John's eyes glance at him as if asking how he is, almost offering a silent apology for their conversation the other night without taking any of it back. Well, as far as Rodney is concerned, it's not good enough and Sheppard should know Rodney was never good at silent communication anyway. If it was important enough to say, he could damn well say it aloud.

He's not sure how long the silence lasts before Sheppard does speak again. But McKay is only half listening, his hand stopped on a pile of pink, blue, and purple hued moss that glistens in the sunlight.

"You look terrible, Rodney. Let's head back for now and we can check it out after you've had some decent rest."

"Yes, while whatever kid needed rescuing last night is long gone? _If _your mysterious transporter actually exists, we might as well check it out. We are, after all, already here and I am _not_ making that hike again."

There is silence for a while more. Parts of the stone now lie on the floor by McKay's side. "Now we're talking," he mutters as he glances at the control crystals covered in dust mites. The cabinet bearing the enzyme had been covered in the same. _No, there's no reason to think about that. The drug is behind you now. Gotta move forward. Gonna be okay._

Sheppard just lets him work for a while, as do Teyla and Ronon once they return from searching the rest of the ruins. He wonders if they notice the way he pauses when his concentration leaves him. It's like hypoglycemia but he knows it is something else.

It's hard to analyze the machine without some working equipment. Thankfully, he was blessed not only with genius, but a photographic memory. The rows of clear crystals with a single blue one remind him of a particular design from the database. And after a few examinations here and there, he's sure he's looking at the jamming device. Pulling a wire loose here and removing a crystal or two is easy, and when his laptop decides to power up, he can't help but give a great big smile. Technology just didn't have a chance when it came to Rodney McKay. Given enough time, he could figure anything out.

With his equipment now in working order everything else is running much faster. He is able to track the remaining functions of the device without too much difficulty. "Here we go," he tells himself, forcing his drooping eyes to stay open. Why is he so tired? He focuses all of his energy on playing with his new toys.

"You were right, it's a transporter." He takes his lunch break in the center of the stone dwelling, enjoying the nice cup of coffee provided by the MRE. He could have kept working, but he refuses to leave any more reasons for Teyla and Sheppard to think of him as unstable, or whatever else it is they thought. Don't they realize he's in this mess because of them? He's not the weak one; really, he's not.

"Can you get it to work?"

"Maybe, which of course means yes. The problem is that as far as I can tell it's run by an encoded remote control. I have to override the systems that look for our equivalent of a GDO before I can find the right frequency to set a few jury-rigged transponders. It shouldn't take me more than a few hours."

"We'll be able to get back, right?"

McKay scoffs as he takes the last bite of his food. "It shouldn't be a problem."

"Shouldn't or won't?"

"It won't. But in case you haven't noticed, I'm not God, and I can't magically foresee the future. Since when does anything we do go according to plan?"

Teyla and Ronon remain silent for most of the conversation. Teyla looks tired and, after her unexpected admission earlier, McKay wonders just how much her bout with the enzyme still affects her. As for Ronon, he is just a man of few words with limited emotional extremes, so McKay doesn't even try wondering what is going on in that thick skull.

"All right, Teyla and I will go first and secure the area. If radios work, we'll let you know to follow. If wherever we end up is out of range, we'll transport back and report."

It is a great plan, mostly because it doesn't involve McKay on the front lines. So he returns to work and some hours later is on the verge of finishing. "Almost there." A chill runs through his body, the kind that makes a man shake for no reason at all. He's had a lot of those lately. Although it passes quickly, his hand slips just enough to trip the nearby wire. No no no... He's not ready for that... A familiar sensation passes through his body and he knows what he has done before he dematerializes.

He has had plenty of time to consider what might be on the other side. His hope is of course a room filled with abandoned Ancient marvels. His fear is finding a lot of tall men with guns. It takes a second after dematerializing to take in the scene and as it turns out, it's a little of both. What he isn't prepared for is the sight of a very familiar child king bound, gagged, and surrounded by the said figures with guns.

While the guards, each wearing sarongs or overalls, are facing the monarch, the kid is staring straight at McKay as he materializes in a white glow. Instantly, the kid's eyes widen as he struggles against the bonds and McKay is sure Frobinius is trying to scream for help. What's worse, is that this action leads to the guards realizing someone is standing right behind them, as if the sound hadn't been a dead give away, so they quickly turn before McKay has any hope of reaching his holstered gun. If he was on the enzyme, this wouldn't be a problem.

"Hi," he says sheepishly, his hands wasting no time in racing into the air and staying there. "Um, ah, nice place you got here." And it is actually a nice place, covered in all the Ancient marvels McKay could have hoped for. Case in point were the weapons, familiar from his journey in the Aurora virtual environment, that were of course now all pointed directly at him.

SGA

Sheppard isn't looking at Rodney directly when he hears the all-too-familiar sound of an Ancient transporter. A quick turn reveals the end of a flashing bright light and Rodney nowhere to be seen. He is on his feet in a split second, casting glances at his teammates but not saying anything. McKay had had the foresight to jury-rig the transponders first which means that if he was far enough in his work, he should be able to just transport back immediately. But when a few seconds pass and no light flashes, Sheppard's stomach sinks.

Taking out his own transponder he motions for the rest of his team to do the same. "On three." He leads the countdown and each of their fingers press down on the button in perfect sync, but nothing happens. Damn.

"Rodney, this is Sheppard, come in. Rodney?" He's talking to his headset now, praying that McKay is within distance, but typical of their luck, he receives no reply.

"Ronon, get to the gate and get Zelenka and Lorne's team here, now!"

The runner is off before Sheppard even finishes his sentence, so Sheppard turns his attention to the transporter. "What was Rodney doing when it activated?"

"I was not paying close attention," Teyla moves beside him, her weapon at the ready, "however, I believe he had just replaced the blue crystal."

Most of the crystals are clear so it only takes a moment to find the one in question. He pauses, wondering if he should wait for Zelenka to return. It might be the most prudent course of action, but he can't just wait while Rodney could be walking—transporting—into god knows what. The piece slides out easily enough and he takes a deep breath before pushing it back in. No white light, no swishing sound, nothing.

His hand moves once again to his earpiece. "Sheppard to McKay, please respond." Nothing.

The now familiar sound of crunching dirt sounds in stereo and he wheels around with his own weapon at the ready. He motions for Teyla to watch his back as he moves toward the hovel's entrance. He's almost there when he hears the one sound he really doesn't need right now. Ronon's scream echoes throughout the forest before silence falls once again. Shit, shit, shit and double shit. Staying calm and collected he does not run. The crunching sound begins once again as a dozen or so figures come into view. Each of them wear sarongs, which is laughable because those can't be easy to fight in, but they each carry a weapon as well. Some have swords and others a strangely familiar Ancient weapon. Not good.

He doesn't want to think about what could make Ronon scream, but finds himself doing just that as he watches the guards search all of the forest. They are going through the ruins like a fine-toothed comb, and Sheppard has no doubt they will go through this one. The more he searches, the more guards he finds and the less chance he can see of escape, though he's not really sure why he's running in the first place. He supposes it probably has to do with those figures Ronon saw last night, that the guards are looking for the mysterious shadows. But he's not about to risk showing himself on the hopes that he isn't the target. Not after hearing Ronon's scream.

But the closer the guards get the clearer it becomes that revealing himself is the least suspicious and only reasonable thing to do. Biting down his instincts he lowers his weapon and orders Teyla to stay covered. He catches the briefest of nods from her before he sets off.

"Hello," he calls, moving slowly away from the dwelling with his hands in the air. At least ten or so weapons point in his direction, only one or two of them being a sword. "If you tell us what you are looking for, we could see about helping you."

The most forward man is a tall, gangly man with a glowering expression that makes him look much tougher than Sheppard suspects he is. "You were with Captain Galois yesterday," he says with a sneer. "He introduced you to King Frobinius."

"That's right." Sheppard recognizes the guard now as the one Galois left them with before making the introductions. He was apparently a second-in-command, but Sheppard can't remember the guy's name for the life of him. "Now that we all remember each other, what do you say you lower your weapons."

The other guards don't so much as flinch, their weapons pointed steady at him. If anything, a few more join the fray, raising swords and guns alike. Two larger men come from the forest carrying a hunched Ronon over their shoulders, five other men standing guard around him. Sheppard gives no outward reaction when he sees the bright red seeping from Ronon's side.

"You had two others in your group with you. Where are they? And where is Captain Galois and young Fronier?"

Sheppard glances at Ronon's pale features. The Satedan's breaths are raspy and short. "What did you do to him?"

"Colonel Sheppard, right? I believe, Sheppard, that I asked you some questions first. If you don't wish to end up like your friend, you will answer them."

Two guards make their way into the hovel despite Sheppard's best attempts to guard the entryway, and seconds later Teyla is pulled forward with the rest of the group. Sheppard passes her an apologetic look while simultaneously making sure that she has not been injured. Some loose strands of hair have fallen from her ponytail, masking part of her face, but other than that she seems fine and she passes him a glance that says the same.

"Well, that just leaves McKay and our two revolutionaries. Where are they?"

"McKay wasn't feeling well so we sent him back through the gate. As for the others, we haven't seen them since yesterday."

There is a gleam in the man's aqua eyes, a dangerous one that reminds Sheppard of Kolya and any other commander willing to do whatever it takes. Two men flank Sheppard from behind, grabbing his arms tightly behind him and fastening them together with a cold metallic binding. Sheppard only puts on a show of struggling, noticing that at least thirty men surround him now.

The Cartesian soldier marches up to Sheppard, meeting his eyes with that horrible gleam. "Or earlier this morning you mean."

"No, we parted before we set up camp, _before sunset_. We haven't seen them."

"You march into our land with talk of trade and allies, and our king welcomes you with open arms, and you repay him by serving those traitors that would dare to rebel against him. I should execute you where you stand."

"I have no idea what Galois and his friend have done, but I assure you that we weren't involved. If you would just allow me to..."

"No. I have had enough of your lies and deceit, Sheppard. We will find the others with or without your help. For now, you three are under arrest for absconding with the king, inciting a revolution, and murdering loyal guardsmen."

At the guard's words, Sheppard's stomach sinks even farther, if that is possible. It was clear that something was happening behind the scenes in the town, but an outright revolution hasn't even crossed his mind. _Absconding with the king? Who talks like that?_

"Please, you are mistaken." It is Teyla speaking now, her diplomatic skills shining through despite her weariness. "We did not..."

"I have no use for your words. Take them away. Gag them if they try to address any of us again."

Sheppard barely has time for another glance at Teyla before he is thrust to his feet and pushed forward.

"Move," a deep voice calls from behind him, and Sheppard finds himself having no choice but to comply.

He focuses on the orange spheres beneath his feet, trying not to think of the sun baking against his sore shoulders or the long trek back to the city. But his real thoughts are on Rodney and the transporter. Maybe the accidental activation was good fortune for the scientist, and God willing, it was, because Sheppard hates to think what other trouble his friend could have got himself into now. So much for keeping an eye on him.

END CHAPTER THREE


	4. Trouble in Pegasus

_A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed (or tried to). Thanks to the three betas that made this so much better than it was._

* * *

Chapter Four: Trouble in Pegasus 

McKay's beginning to think maybe he should write a book: Ten-Thousand Reasons For Scientists Not To Venture into Pegasus. It would be a best-seller if he could ever get past the government censors. Item number one would be that the Pegasus Galaxy is a hostile hell-hole filled with betrayal and conflict. Thus, only a complete moron would consider going there. In fact, he's starting to wonder if there is anything worth saving in the Pegasus Galaxy besides the technology. Most, if not all, of the people are like the Genii: two-faced and out for their own selfish needs. Reminds him of Earth really, but at least on Earth he was able to avoid such people, or to be such people.

Case in point are the men currently pointing guns on him while holding a child king hostage. Great. It is just his luck that he has inadvertently walked into the heart of a revolution.

The tension he had noticed in the village was nothing compared to the tangible anxiety he is witnessing now. He's taken the kidnappers by surprise and they appear unsure how to react other than point weapons at him. One thing's for sure: Sheppard didn't train these men.

McKay keeps his hands steady in the air despite the weight it bears on his shoulders. He concentrates on taking slow breaths, forcing his chest to move in and out in a regular pattern. A voice in his head shouts, _Don't do anything stupid,_ and he thinks it's sage advice. Well, he'll at least hold off for as long as possible anyway. Give it about ten minutes, maybe less.

"I, uh, take it that I've interrupted something important? If it's all the same to you, I could just turn around and, uh, leave you to whatever it is you're doing."

"Who are you?" Finally one of the guards has done something other than stand there looking shell-shocked, taking a few steps forward to investigate their new intruder.

"Me? Uh, no one important. Don't mean to break up your little soirée here or anything so..."

"Where did you come from?" The kidnapper-guard holds his back straight but still stands a few inches below McKay. It's not often that McKay finds himself looking down on a captor and it's a nice change. A person's features look different from this point of view. The guard's face is recently scratched, a few of his wounds still bleeding and probably needing stitches. His beady eyes are filled with something McKay recognizes only too well: fear.

And McKay himself is afraid and knows he is doing an awful job of hiding it, even with his trademark chin raise and gulp. So his team is somewhere else with a still-broken transporter. So he can't hope for an immediate rescue. So a lot of men have Ancient weapons pointed at him. So these said men are holding a ten-year old king hostage, bound and gagged. Nothing he can't handle, right? _You are so screwed._

"If you would be so kind as to grace me with a response, sir. I asked you where you came from."

"Yes, so you did. Interesting story actually, I'd love to tell it to you sometime, but my friends are waiting for me and they really get annoyed when I disappear for too long and all pleasantries aside..."

The one in charge--or at least who seems to be--can't be any older than Ford. Ford. Enzyme. If he had the enzyme he could get out of this easily enough. Maybe grab the child on his way out and play hero. The only time in his life he ever won a fight was with the drug and this is as good a time as any. But he doesn't have access to a stash…wouldn't take it even if he did…and he is wondering why he is even thinking about this right now. Shouldn't he be paying attention to, oh he doesn't know, maybe the guards staring him down with guns? Kind of an important topic to concentrate on. Damn, it's so hard to focus.

"Enough." The lead guard, like so many before him, is not ready to hear McKay's high-paced panic-laden mumblings. He motions to two others with his chin, and what the silent communication means is soon apparent when a pair of black metal cuffs are brandished. Then, still staring McKay straight in the eyes, the guard barks, "Someone sound the alarm all ready!"

McKay's hands are whisked from the air and brusquely forced behind his back. The metal is cold against his sore wrists and McKay is just glad they're not using zip ties. Those things dig into the skin, leaving horrible welts. The red band from the infirmary restraints has yet to disappear, just another side effect from his bout with the enzyme. He didn't feel pain when he was on the drug. That came later. He's not an addict though, just like he's not weak. He can handle pain, including the excruciating one in his shoulders from having his hands clasped behind his back. It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before, right?

The man before him, another nameless face in Pegasus, is breathing nearly as hard as McKay. He's about two seconds away from panicking and so is everyone else in the room. Sheppard would be able to turn that in his favor, but McKay isn't going to try. Not with guns pointing at him.

"I'm afraid that you will have to be our guest for a brief period," the kidnapper says before turning back to give other orders.

"Lovely." A series of loud, baritone beeps emits from somewhere unseen, and McKay really wishes his hands were at least free to cover his ears. He glances across the room, taking in the breadth of the place in a giant sweep. Ancient equipment with all the bells, whistles, and lights adorn the cave's moist wall. Some of the stuff he recognizes, others he can't wait to get his hands on. He's willing to bet this isn't where most of the stuff originated; devices like these just didn't keep 10,000 years in a room where water drips from numerous cracks in the walls.

A clammy palm grabs onto his bare arms, leading him next to the king child. What was his name again? Shares a name with a algebraist…that much he remembers. Ah yes, Frobinius.

The kidnappers force McKay to take a seat beside the king and McKay doesn't resist, still gaping at the wonders around him. His gaze switches gears as he takes in his captors as though for the first time. The man who had taken the lead is covered in the iron dust they had seen on the lower-class natives. But this guard is wearing a sarong, and though covered in dust, McKay can still see drops of crimson red. Maybe it's from one of the many gashes on his face or maybe it is from Frobinius. McKay's just glad it isn't his.

From his peripheral vision, he can see the king glowering at all of his captors in a true Ronon fashion. Frobinius is unrelenting in his attempts to scream through the gag, but is drowned out by the god-awful alarm that they have yet to stop. If it's their way of torturing information out of him, they just might succeed.

The alarm finally ceases just as McKay decides he's willing to make a break for it if only to avoid the awful blaring. Frobinius is still mumbling incoherently beside him, kicking his legs for emphasis and passing icy stares to each person in the room. Without the unbearable noise, McKay can now hear the sound of boots clopping against a metal floor. Two men rush into the room, full of sweat and swords at the ready. Some of the guards swing into attention.

"Of course. I might have known," McKay says, looking the new visitors up and down. He tries to cross his arms in front of his chest but only succeeds in painfully pulling at his blazing shoulders.

"McKay," one of them says with an exasperated sigh. "I thought we had made it abundantly obvious that now was not the best time for trade negotiations."

The man's name is somewhere in McKay's memory and he has to search for it before coming up with Galois. He's never been good at recalling details like that, but sometimes it just clicks. "Yes, well, next time you should just come out and say you're planning a revolution and we'll gladly leave you alone. For now, I'm willing to forgive you, provided you have me untied and let me go my merry way. Let bygones be bygones as it were."

Galois examines his captive for a moment, a calculating stare in his eyes, and McKay does his best to keep his back straight under the penetrating gaze. The teenager-duelist, Fronier, and God only knows how McKay remembers that name, is behind him, staying still, as is everyone else. It is as though the room is waiting for Galois to speak before breathing again. These people really are terrified of something. But one supposes kidnapping a king would do that to a person.

"My most sincere apologies, Dr. McKay, that you were thrust into this predicament. I assure you that we will treat you well until we can return you to your people."

"You could just return me now." McKay flinches slightly when Galois raises his eyebrow in doubt. "Listen, I could care less about your petty revolution. I won't say a word to anyone about your...actions. I swear."

"I wish I could believe you, but these are desperate times."

"If you don't let me go now, my friends will come looking. Kidnapping me will only piss them off, and you do not want to see a pissed-off Sheppard. And you won't live to see a pissed-off Ronon, because he _will_ kill you first. Let me go and you might just succeed with whatever the hell it is you are trying to do, keep me here and my team will make sure you fail."

Galois laughs loudly, which is more alarming than comforting really. His weary features form a jubilant smile. "You will be nothing if not entertaining to have around, McKay."

Rodney wastes no time in forming a retort, but it never gets past his lips. His gaze locks on Fronier. The teen's eyes are wide as watermelons, and he is visibly trembling from head to foot.

"There is only one way you could have come here," he says with a soft, resigned tone. He does not move nor speak again.

Although Galois' features don't change much, McKay can see he understands. Maybe it's a change in the air that gives it away, or maybe it's just the fact that McKay's been doing this for far too long, that he notices at all.

"Fronier." Galois' tone is harsh and commanding, like Sheppard's when he's snapping McKay out of one of his mile-long speeches. "I need to know our options."

The kid responds in an instant, leaping forward and coming to a halt before one of the Ancient devices. "I'm going to assume that you arrived here through the Ancient beam and that you were forced to leave the panel in plain sight seeing as you didn't have a remote. You must have turned off the device discontinuer which means…" The teen wipes beads of sweat from his forehead then pauses, turning to pass McKay a pleading look, as though begging for him to be wrong.

Only in Pegasus would a duelist in a sarong and Hawaiian shirt turn out to be a technology expert. There's something else to add to his book: People are never what they appear. Things are complicated enough on earth without adding whole galaxies of people into the equation.

Fronier's still looking at him with that terror-ridden stare, but McKay offers no consolation to the boy, neither confirming nor denying his suspicions.

The duelist/tech is close to tears when he turns back to the device, working at a frantic pace that reminds McKay of his own late night antics. "I can't get the device to reactivate again which means someone must be in the ruins as we speak."

The silence in the room is as palpable as the anxiety; the guards shuffle slightly. The king mumbles louder as if driven by a new will to free himself. Galois is the only one, other than McKay, who doesn't flinch at the words. Instead he speaks with a soothing voice. "How much time?"

"Three _remiks_, I think. I'm securing the traveling device but if they find the panel, they'll figure a way through."

Galois is staring at him, so McKay stops trying to guess what a remik is and gives his best intimidating stare back. Galois doesn't react.

When the captain speaks again, he is back to a commanding, snapping tone. "Alright. We shall have to traverse the tunnels. Gaston, kindly alert everyone. Soldiers, take up the flank and be steady with your weapons. Remember what it is we fight for and we will prevail. Fronier, do what you can, but don't stay too long."

The room is sent into a frenzy as devices are shut down, weapons checked. People escape into whatever lies beyond the room, while McKay and Frobinius can do nothing but watch, and the king is being annoyingly loud about it. No wonder he has a gag even if no one important can hear him scream.

Galois does not move, his calculating stare directed right at McKay. "Again, I offer you my apologies," he says in a gentle voice, and then changing tone in an instant he calls, "I want two men guarding our prisoners at all times. If they resist, shoot them and drag them with us."

He feels someone manhandle his arms, tugging him roughly to his feet. His shoulder and back sear in pain at the motion. "Watch it. You could just ask me to stand. I am a perfectly capable adult, if you haven't noticed. Don't think I won't send you my doctor's bill." His left foot flies before his right as a brusque hand pushes against his back. Galois reaches out a hand, keeping him from toppling over while passing an admonishing glare to the aggressor.

"He is not our enemy. We keep him out of necessity but there is no need to treat him with anything other than the deepest respect you would pay a kinsman. It is oppression that we seek to destroy. In order to accomplish this feat, we must not become what we have previously been."

The guard sobers at Galois's words and McKay notices that all traces of a sneer are gone as the soldier moves aside, as though requesting McKay to walk forward. "This way, Doctor," he says.

McKay walks because there is nothing else he can do, but he has his own calculations racing through his mind as he watches the others ahead of him. The outside corridor is little more than a tunnel with the occasional piece of Ancient equipment. When Sheppard gets off his lazy bum and launches a rescue, McKay will see about coming back and looking at what treasures abound.

When Sheppard rescues him... It's getting kind of old really. Always waiting for the cavalry. Sure he's saved people on thousands of occasions with his genius, but it's situations like this, the ones where he's bound and alone, and weak, that freeze in his mind. He can't even throw a decent punch for crying out loud; what is he doing on the field? He still can't remember how Sheppard conned him into joining the adventures in the first place. What did he want with someone that was weak anyway?

Oh yeah. The brain thing. _Hello, saving millions of people by entering the right codes is no small feat. Everyone would be dead without you._ Yeah, sure, but it won't save him now. Just gotta wait for the cavalry.

There is little air to be shared among the twenty or so adults and multitude of children all traveling through the caves. Fronier has yet to join them and McKay notices how Galois keeps looking back as though hoping the youth will appear. Strange, seeing as how they were trying to kill each other earlier.

There is no sign of the purple fluff from the trees that had adorned the surface ground, and the rocks are only a light shade of red, almost orange in the torches glow. They passed the last sign of technology nearly five minutes ago, Frobinius kicking the whole way.

What really gets to McKay though is the horrible smell. The thing about caves is that they tend to be wet. Especially deep caves that were clearly used for mining sometime in the past. The dampness and sulfur meld together to create an aroma that in small quantities might be tolerable, but in this cave is nauseating.

The manacles are starting to chafe against his already sore skin and he's almost ready to cry for how much the awkward position strains his muscles. Not that he would cry. He's not weak. Sweat trickles down his warm cheeks, and it is soothing in its own strange way. He wonders if everyone else can hear him breathe as loudly as he can. Judging by the concerned looks and the reassuring smile Galois keeps passing him, that would be a yes.

"Do not worry, my dear doctor, we do not have far to travel now."

"You're sure the air is breathable all the way, right? It looks like we're heading pretty far down into the ground and I don't see any canaries around to tell us if we're going to die from poisonous gases. I mean, there is plenty of air to go around?"

Galois lays a hand on his aching shoulder, his jubilant smile back. "Fear not, McKay, we will not allow any harm to come to our guests."

"Oh, is that what I am now?"

Frobinius stops kicking somewhere after the first mile. His eyes are closed; his head lays gently on a kidnapper's shoulder. Galois is watching this between bouts of looking back. There is a gleam in his eyes, like the ones fathers are supposed to have, but McKay hasn't really seen it much before. Galois leans over to the guard on carrying duty and relieves him of his burden. Frobinius wakes just for a moment before resting his head back on Galois' shoulder with a comforted countenance.

"Gaston, be so kind as to remove the cloth and chains. It is unfortunate that they ever had to be there."

McKay looks from Frobinius to the kid, who is now snoring gently. What was it Galois had said his title was? Captain kingsmen. Strange that he would be part of--would be leading--this band of revolutionaries.

"Hey, if he gets freed of these damned things, I expect no less." McKay realizes he sounds like a five-year-old complaining to his mother that other kids got bikes so why shouldn't he, but he doesn't care. Even after seventy straight hours of typing on a computer, his shoulders never have complained so much.

"How do I know you will not fight us the moment you are free?"

"I'm a scientist for crying out loud and you have all the guns, remember? What the hell am I going to do?"

Galois pushes Frobinius a little higher on his back as the kid is far too big to be carried on the side. McKay catches Galois' penetrating stare and McKay, for his part, makes no move to break the eye-contact until Galois finally nods.

"If you betray my trust, you will not live to see the morning." He motions to someone nearby to remove the restraints before calling for everyone to take a short break.

McKay wastes no time in finding the nearest empty wall. He leans down on the ground, burying his head in his knees, whispering softly words of comfort to himself, convincing himself there is more air than it appears. He hears footsteps come close to him before they cease. Someone takes a seat by him, laying a warm hand on his arm.

"You are a brave man," Galois says.

"Hardly."

McKay opens his eyes to see the soldier sitting beside him. Streaks of red dust cover his scarred hands and McKay wonders if he is going to look like that soon. He already bears a large scar on his arm, compliments of Kolya. He has no doubt that a few more years on the field and he'll be hard to see beyond wounded skin.

Frobinius is stretched across Galois' lap, his thumb lodged in his mouth. Even though McKay can't stand kids, even he wouldn't deny how sweet they look while asleep.

"So how much further until we reach wherever it is we are going?"

"Not far now." Galois is caressing the king's head gently while he speaks, and Frobinius is too out of it to notice.

Someone hands him a flask of water--a pretty girl with brown, curly hair. She's what Sheppard would call jail bait, but she's also clearly pregnant. She has a attractive smile too, even as she rubs her own arms nervously. "Do you think the riots have started yet?" she asks, turning to Galois.

"We can only hope, my dear Epina. If all goes well, this time next week, we shall be a free people. Now sit, rest. Young Abel there needs you to care for yourself." He places a hand on her stomach before she turns to leave.

Her back is turned, and she has already walked some steps before she speaks again. "I do hope you know what you are doing, Galois. For all our sakes."

McKay's hands are shaking as the water soothes his chapped lips. It's been a full hour since he's thought of the enzyme but his mind has somehow managed to find its way back to the unwanted topic. In many ways, water is like the enzyme. It comforts him in much the same way the drug had with each new dose. It offers strength and renewal. And he needs it. No. No, that is wrong. He doesn't need it. He's not an addict. _Throw the thought out the window._

He laughs at that. He used to have a friend who had that for a token saying. One time he had said the line and without thinking, had actually thrown his cup out the drivers-side window. That was McKay's first summer in college and the last time he remembers both being happy and not afraid.

He turns his gaze back to Galois who is watching Frobinius with a tender gaze. If McKay didn't know better, he'd say he was looking at father and son. But the hair is a different color, and their facial structures are all wrong for being of the same lineage, and yet McKay is sure he sees a bond there. It's hard to believe this sleeping child is the same one that was kicking and mumbling with such vigor only a few hours before. The king almost looks sweet wrapped in Galois' black cloak.

Galois does not look toward McKay when he speaks next. His voice is quiet as though he is afraid of waking the sleeping boy. "As Captain kingsman I have known Frobinius all of his life. It has been my duty to protect him at all costs, including not only my own life, but the lives of everyone else in the palace."

"Really? And you call kidnapping protecting him?"

"Yes."

"You might want to look it up in the dictionary. Protect. As in to keep from harm. Notice how chaining a child up and gagging him while stealing him away from his home is nowhere stated nor implied in the definition." Hiding the snideness in his voice has never been McKay's talent, and he's not sure he'd change it if he could. Snide is what keeps him going, what keeps him him sane around all the destruction and pain that comes with journeying through Pegasus. He's not a soldier, he was never meant to be one, so why does he feel like he's been drafted into a war? Not the revolution on this pathetic world, no, but a far-reaching war where the penalty for losing is the death of everyone back on Earth. No one deserves that burden.

He's not sure how long there has been silence, his own mind wandering in the way that it does. But Galois has yet to answer. Fire blazes in his eyes, but he keeps them focused on the kid. Eventually he whispers, "I do what I must and no principality can keep me from my task. Yes, doctor, I am protecting Frobinius far more than you, or even Frobinius, can ever understand."

Shaking the child gently, Galois whispers something softly in his ear. The king's eyes flutter open. He smiles up at Galois, mumbling something about just a little more sleep, before his eyes fall on McKay. His soft features are quickly replaced by a cold-stone mask with a furious snare. "Let go of me, you, you, traitor." He punches his miniature fists into Galois chest, until the soldier grasps them in a tight lock. "You will take me home now!"

"Be still, Frobinius. There is much that you do not comprehend."

"I understand that you have betrayed myself and all Cartesia. A betrayal made all the worse by the supposed friendship we have shared over the years. Do not think I will spare you from the guillotine."

"Then I have even less of a reason to let you go. On your feet, Sire, this day is not yet over and there is much to be done."

Despite the king's complaints, the cadre is on its way again in matter of minutes. McKay figures he's done enough walking today to last him a month, but continues with the rest, his calf muscles muttering complaints with each step. Frobinius is quieter as he walks next to Galois, casting the soldier the most furious of glances every few minutes. The boy is sulking and close to tears, but he holds his head high, walking forward with long, exaggerated strides. "I hate you," he occasionally murmurs to Galois. "I hate you more than anything." Galois flinches.

McKay keeps his distance as he watches the interaction with only half interest. His mind on the pulling in the arches of his feet, the difficulty of breathing with that god-awful smell in a closed environment, and the fact that he'd give anything to just go home and sleep on his own bed right now. His eyes are starting to droop and it's been a long time since he was this tired. He's anxious to rest, but afraid at the same time. Having nightmares in front of his teammates is enough of a problem; as a captive...well, it can't be a good thing, that's for sure. Not that these people seem particularly harmful. As far as captors go, they're probably some of the best he's had, but he hasn't forgotten the Genii.

He supposes there are a few more items to add to his book's list. One, if you are stupid enough to join a front-line team, they'll make you exercise. This is against the nature of a scientist and thus you are better off sticking to your cozy lab on Earth. Two, a good night's rest is not something to be taken for granted. If you visit Pegasus, you will learn this lesson so many times that it will break you, and then some.

He jots his thoughts down on an imaginary pad in his brain and then focuses on walking some more, wondering how Sheppard and Teyla are faring. Knowing their luck, they probably are in as much trouble as him, if not more. Truth be told, this worries him. Because yes, they can fight, and yes, McKay can't, but he still has one up on them. He understands the technology, and nine out of ten times, that's what saves their asses. And that is why he is here, isn't it? Instead of hidden away in the comfort of his lab having listened to his own ten thousand items, book-long advice. Because pain or not, addiction or not, he's the only one that can think them into safety, and here he had to go and get himself captured. Great. Just smegg'n great.

He finds himself clenching his fist as he thinks about his teammates. Maybe they're coming to the rescue. Maybe they're in their own predicament. Maybe Rodney doesn't care one way or the other. None of them seemed to think he was up for a mission and Sheppard must be going crazy knowing McKay is out of their sight. He's not weak, dammit. And who the hell is Sheppard to even suggest that he is? He clenches his fist harder, wondering if he's strong enough to make himself bleed. Would that prove he was strong?

_Focus McKay, focus. You should be thinking of a way out of this mess. If they are in trouble, if you have to save them, you gotta have a plan. And if they are in trouble, and the cavalry you've so come to rely on doesn't come, you need to ready._

He wonders how much further he can walk before collapsing. He's still breathing heavy, and his chest itches thanks to the moisture pinning his shirt against his skin. Many of the kids have fallen asleep on their parent's shoulders and McKay wonders just how wonderful a bed would be right now. And why is the room getting darker and… His thoughts stop as he places a hand on the nearest wall, his palm comforted by the dripping water.

"You okay?" someone calls, and then suddenly he's surrounded by a dozen or so worried strangers that are hogging even more of his air.

"Give him some room," he distinctly hears Galois say, but everything else sounds like mumbles.

What is…Oh yeah…Food. He can't recall the last time he ate which is annoying because he's usually so diligent about that kind of thing. He forgot about that yesterday too. Something Carson said about the enzyme resetting his metabolism and how it wouldn't be back on track for a while. He honestly hasn't felt hungry and he's been so confused and… _Hello, idiot person that won't shut up…Stop thinking and eat already!_

He manages to keep himself from fainting, but it takes all his remaining energy. The badly-trained kidnappers had failed to take his tactical vest, so at least his powerbars were an easy reach away. Too bad they did think to take his gun. "I'm okay, just ah, need to rest for a second," he says before shoving a few pieces into his mouth. The powerbar tastes metallic as it crumbles in his mouth, another effect from the enzyme that should be going away any time soon.

Galois looks at him as though unsure whether to trust him, or maybe he's just afraid that this is some kind of escape tactic. But he lowers his cloak to the ground and announces, "We will rest for a short while and provide Fronier another chance to join us."

Frobinius takes a seat by McKay, his arms crossed haughtily around his chest. He hasn't said anything for a while now, but his icy stares and puffed cheeks are communicative enough. Two guards flank him on either side, guns at the ready.

McKay, for his part, just stares straight ahead, berating himself for the oversight. There's a good reason he's a hypochondriac. It keeps him diligent. And what was it that crazy character in the Harry Potter books always said, "Constant Vigilance," or something like that. Well there's another item for his book: A mind is a terrible thing to lose and Pegasus will give you plenty of chances to do just that. You will lose your focus and you will do stupid things, and in a reasonable scenario, you could get yourself killed. In the worst-case scenario, you will get many others killed.

The food doesn't sit well in his stomach, and he's not sure how well he'll be able to keep it down. And even with the newly added calories, he feels the impossible weight of his eyelids. He watches as Galois offers him an arm up, and even with the assist it is difficult for him to get up. "How long until we get there?" he asks, wondering if he'll even understand these peoples measurements.

"We are almost there."

McKay's not sure he's ready to believe the soldier. After all, hadn't he said the same thing five hours ago? As he begins the endless trek, McKay wonders if maybe, just maybe, he could trade his life with someone on E-bay. No doubt he'd get the good end of the bargain, but he'd sure feel sorry for whatever sap ended up here. He'd have to make sure there was a no return policy.

But for now, he is the one in the hell-hole and so he keeps walking.

_

* * *

A/N: "Smegg'n" slang from the show Red Dwarf. You just know that McKay has to be a fan._


	5. Entourage

_A/N: This went through a lot of rewrites and I'm still not the happiest with it, but I think it works. Let me know what you think and I'll give you some nice yummy cookies._

_Warning: This chapter is very dark and disturbing; I think._

Chapter Five: Entourage

They're not far from the village when smoke begins an assault on Sheppard's lungs. It's not bad enough to make him cough, but his eyes are stinging and the damn chains won't let him do anything about it. Through a cloudy haze he watches Ronon, making sure not to look directly at the injured man. A gleam of sweat glistens in the sun as it runs down the runner's flush cheek. Ronon is keeping up a good pace, but Sheppard can see the way he sometimes stops, as if getting his bearings and building the will power to move forward again.

"You gonna be okay?'

"I've had worse." Ronon's stomach has been wrapped in a few cloths, and the bleeding seems to have stopped seeping through, so at least there is that. He breathes heavily enough as he talks though, and Sheppard doesn't remember the last time he heard the runner short of breath.

"I'm not doubting that, but that's not an answer. What did they do to you?"

"Looks worse than it is. I fought; they fought back. I lost."

Sheppard walks a few more paces, noticing how Ronon's eyes keep closing for extended periods of time. He's seen some good men die from stomach wounds and it's never a pleasant sight. They need to look at that wound and soon.

When Ronon's eyelids close and don't open, Sheppard finds himself nudging the runner with his elbow. Ronon's not a small-talk kind of guy, so his next question is just as pointed as the last. "You screamed loudly back there."

"It was a warning for you, so you'd know they were there. That's all."

Sheppard raises his eyebrow but doesn't inquire further.

Traversing the path isn't easy. The crevasses make things difficult enough without adding the instability that comes from having his two hands clasped behind his back. He's beginning to think maybe McKay was right to complain about the beaten road and he's wondering how many folks have broken their neck by stepping in the wrong place and toppling over. Probably a good few.

Sheppard would probably feint tripping if there were a decent ratio between the guards and his team, but there are two major flaws to this plan. One, they have no use of their hands, and even Ronon's unnatural strength isn't going to break through this metal, especially in his current condition. Two, there are at least twenty men surrounding them, and some look ready to shoot the second they have a reason. Apparently these men didn't like it when you kidnapped their king, and who would really? Sheppard isn't much a fan of politics and although he's tried to explain that to them, they sure don't seem to want to listen. He's got the bruise on his forehead to prove that much.

The fog of smoke grows thicker with each step, and ahead Sheppard can just make out the familiar dark clouds that could only come from a fire. A big one. His suspicions are confirmed when the faintest of yellow and amber flames glimmer in the dense black. Just ahead and some hundreds of meters before the fire, a perimeter of guards surrounds the fields of...whatever that godawful Athosian vegetable was.

An opening is made in the human fence. A hand comes crashing against Sheppard's back, pushing him forward. Someone takes advantage of Sheppard's distance to do the same to Ronon. The Satedan plummets ungracefully to the ground and two other guards help him up, despite Ronon's growl that he can handle himself. Sheppard doesn't miss the way the aggressive guard looks at the ones that assisted.

Sheppard doesn't hesitate in flashing his most vicious stare towards the aggressor, a man easily as tall as Ronon with a sneer entrenched in his features. "I don't know what your problem is, and frankly, I don't want to know. But shouldn't some of you be helping put out that fire before you don't have a village left to protect?"

"He's right, sir," a voice says. Sheppard sees it's one of the men that helped Ronon, his sandy brown hair now covered in specks of orange dust. The guard is around Ford's age, walking with the stiff back of a new recruit. But Sheppard doesn't miss the way the youth slides his fingers against the rim of his sarong or the shifty looks he keeps passing to some of the other soldiers in the group. "We don't need..."

"I will decide what we need. Never underestimate the power of show and tell, guardsman."

It hurts to cough, especially with the smoke currently assailing his lungs, but he has little choice as they make their way closer to the village. Having his hands bound is bad in this respect as well, seeing as how his chest pulls with each spasm. Combining all of this with the suns attack on his reddening skin, and he's starting to wonder why he is always so anxious to go through the gate. He lives for this stuff, though. What was it psychology said? If you get shocked by the cupcake you'll learn not to grab it. Well, he keeps getting shocked and that doesn't seem to stop him from coming back for more. And he knows that once he's home and free from all the dirt and grime, he's going to wish he was right back out here again.

They're still a short walk away from the core of the village when a nauseating aroma fills the air. Sheppard can hardly see his traveling companions through the heat's waves. The fire can't be too far away now but his entourage still makes no move to assist in quenching the flames. And there really is something just wrong about that, isn't there? The homes of the people they are trying to protect are fading away into non-existence and these guards are acting like it's just another day of duty. Well, not all of them, at least that is something.

Ronon falls forward again, and Sheppard thinks it's just another crevasse before he actually turns his head to make sure the runner is still okay. He finds the obstacle that had tripped Ronon. It's not a hole. His gut rolls a few times too fast, its contents endangered of pouring on the burnt orange ground. The putrid smell of burning flesh is unmistakable, familiar from his time in Afghanistan, as he stares at what could only be the charred remains of what was once a person.

Beside a nearby corpse, a man in a white cloak leans down and makes some strange movement with his hands that reminds Sheppard of the way his grandmother used to cross herself. The man mumbles something softly before turning to do the same to the next victim.

He can no longer see any flames in the distance, but the smoke is still there as he finds himself coughing a few more times, nearly falling over from the intensity of the motion. Ronon is now basically being carried by two of the guards, something the runner would never allow if he were still conscious. Whatever the hell they did to him, it had to be bad.

"Are you okay, Colonel?" he hears Teyla's gentle voice, her breath cool against his heated skin.

He looks up to her before nodding and coughing some more, and he can hear her do the same. They both must have been reading each other's thoughts because they are now next to Ronon again, watching the guards for any actions they won't appreciate. "We need to get him help. Now," Sheppard yells at the air, at Teyla, at the guards. He knows the leader won't help, but at least he can put that one more shred of doubt in the mind of the others, the ones clearly concerned with the situation.

The godawful smell isn't waning, far from it. The deeper they walk into the village, the more charred remains litter the ground. Only a few men in white cloaks dare get close enough to touch them. Everyone else, nearly all of them in the jean overalls and flowery shirts, look on in tears but none makes a move to do anything. He can hear a child screaming for his father, and catches the slightest glimpse of a small figure rushing away before someone, a woman who is herself in tears, grabs him and pushes him back. The screams are muffled before they die out.

"Be still my love," she says just loud enough for Sheppard to hear. "You must be still."

Teyla's voice is raspy and quivering when she finally finds the words that weigh on both of their minds. "What do you think has happened here?"

Nothing good, he wants to answer. He doesn't though, because the smoke isn't enough to hide the evidence flaring before his eyes. These people are smart in at least one respect: all of their buildings are spread far apart from each other and away from the trees, and that should mean that a fire should easily be contained from one house before spreading to the next. Some dwellings are still standing tall, towering over the other houses' remains. The pattern is too irregular, not made by nature, and Sheppard doesn't like that one bit.

Teyla is speaking again. "It would appear that these buildings were..."

"Yeah, I got that. Sounds like they had no problems quelling the revolution these guys think we started."

Fire is a terrible way to die. He once read somewhere that if drowning was the most peaceful, fire was the most painful. He wonders how the remains have even made it outside, how they're distinguishable amongst the ashes at all, but he has his answer as he sees a white-cloaked man dragging some corpses on a tarp out of the smoky remains of what was once a house.

Waves of soldiers line the rust-red street, many armed with swords, some with the Ancients' guns, but many more with torches. Sheppard clenches his fists, centering his anger away from the horrible destruction. But as he sees the wide eyes of a four year-old girl fall upon him, black soot mixing with the red dust in such amounts that he has no idea what the original color of her hair is, he realizes just what the leader had meant a while back. _Never underestimate the power of show and tell._ Son of a bitch. All these fires, all these deaths, were clearly their way of sending a message: Don't even think of rebelling against the throne. Now Sheppard sees that Teyla, Ronon, and himself are on display just as much as the rest. The accused kidnappers of a king dragged through the town so all might see that their rebellion has failed and that this is what people can expect if they dare rise up. As he coughs a few more times, his skin covered in so much sweat that he wonders how there can be any more water left in his body, he can't keep the bile from traveling up his throat. He stops to heave and amazingly none of the guards seem to complain. He can hear a few of them doing the same.

"Now return to your homes. All of you!" the leader shouts and the crowd does not hesitate in obeying.

Some hundreds of meters later they have left the slums for a neighborhood touched only by the wafting smoke and smell of the fires. No one is out on the street, but Sheppard can see a few heads peer out from among various openings, all anxious to catch a glimpse of the traveling show.

Ronon still hasn't moved by the time they reach the royal palace.

Except for the two hundred or so guards surrounding the giant square building, the place looks little different from what Sheppard had seen the previous day. Hundreds of stairs buttress a wall that angles into the rest of the building at a forty-five degree angle. Some of the purple moss has grown along the sides, shaped into a variety of patterns that probably mean something to the people of the village, but nothing at all to Sheppard. The lack of complaints is one bright side to McKay not being here. Which is good, because after that disturbing journey, Sheppard's not sure how much more he can put up with. It takes all of his concentration not to trip on each new step.

Teyla does fall at one point. She motions that she is all right, but doesn't speak. Sheppard can see the white streaks that cover her pale lips. They need water soon, hell they needed it a few hours ago, and as Sheppard moves his tongue across his own chapped lips, he imagines how wonderful the cool liquid would feel against his raw throat.

At the top of the stone cube are a couple of circular openings, each covered in fine silk draping. Sheppard watches as the lead guard whispers to two of the others who then run off, disappearing between the orange and blue linens. Some moments later, the two return and Sheppard is once again pushed forward along with Teyla. The giant courtyard is filled with bowing, sarong-wearers, most of them guards. Everyone else seems to have been sent away, which, given the straits these people are in, is probably best for all involved. Sheppard bows when the queen appears, her dark eyes shooting a pointed stare at her prisoners.

"What have you done with my son?"

Despite her words, there are no signs of grieving: There are no visible tears, or even the slightest bit of glassiness that comes from trying to hold them back; she is not shaking or weeping, and her voice is still level.

But there are plenty of clues that she is absolutely livid: Her breathing comes in compact intervals, her giant pointed nose is wrinkled upwards in an unmistakable sneer, and the left bottom nostril is slightly twitching. She wraps the end of her maroon cloak ensemble around herself, never once breaking her icy stare.

Sheppard for his part just tries to look back with his best boyish smile, the one that has wooed enough women to make him happy, but not nearly as many as McKay seems to think. Still, a little charm could go a long way to keeping them safe in Pegasus, and it's the only weapon he has to work with right now. "Look, we've obviously come here at a bad time. What do you say you send us home and we'll come back for that trade show you were talking about, and you all can sort out whatever it is that is going on here."

The queen steps forward, gazing at her prisoners with a mixture of loathing and fury. "How dare you come into our cities, partake of our hospitality, and then betray our trust by stealing away the foundation on which this society survives." She holds her bony chin parallel to the floor, her nose sticking upwards. "You will return the royal personage at this very moment or I shall have you all executed immediately."

Sheppard does not show his fear, but that doesn't mean he isn't trembling inside. He's known a fair amount of people that wanted to kill him, some that just kept coming back over and over again, but that doesn't make it any easier every time he adds another to the list. He forces back the lump, his hazel eyes locking with the queens. "Look, we don't know where your king is. We came here looking for trade; that's all. We don't kidnap people and we don't help in revolutions. We are not your enemy."

"And you just so happened to find Captain Galois in the woods?" The queen scoffs, lifting her left eyebrow. "You just so happened to be introduced to us by him the very night that he unleashes his treachery? A treachery, which I'm sure you already know, could only be pulled off with all of our eyes focused on new visitors? I am not an ignorant woman, Colonel Sheppard, and I can see very well what is placed before me."

Looking into her hollow eyes is like gazing at pure evil. A terrifying cold passes down his spine, but he doesn't look away. He's reminded of the wraith queen from his bout on the hiveship, but even this is more unsettling. There is joy in this woman's eyes, a sick, demented joy emanating from the darkness within her.

He thinks back to the burned bodies and the traumatized villagers, the smell forever imprinted on his mind. These people had to be desperate to risk all of that for a revolution, and looking at this queen, he knows he would do the same.

Beside him, Teyla's arms are covered in goosebumps, but her head is held high. She smiles softly as though this is nothing more than a trade negotiation, but he can also see the way her arm quivers. She casts him a few glances, indicating that she is about to speak.

"I understand that you are frustrated from all that has happened here. It is our hope that your son is returned to you safe and well. While we did not know what Captain Galois and his men were planning, perhaps there is a way we could help you in your endeavors."

Oh, so that's what that look had meant. Crap, he didn't mean to agree to that. He wants to get as far away from these people as possible, away from that woman at the very least. He sends Teyla a pointed stare who returns it with gentle eyes that say, _we must do something. _He realizes her underlying goal: bring in what equipment they can to maybe find Rodney as well as the boy king. Hopefully they can also get some help for Ronon who is still passed out some inches away. Sheppard gives a slight nod, only large enough for her to see, before he turns his attentions back to the queen.

"We do have some equipment that could help your search. All it takes is one word and we'll get started."

Given the transporter, the weapons, and the jamming field, he's actually not sure what exactly they could offer these people. But they're not Ancients, just borrowers, like him and the other Atlantis team members, and chances are good that they can use something that was at his team's disposal. Too bad the queen doesn't look convinced. Her nostril is still raised, her black beady eyes still laced with fury. Part of him is glad she's not buying it, because he's partly convinced she's the devil incarnate if ever there was one.

"If what you say is true, I am terribly sorry for these unfortunate circumstances," her voice is soft, almost sweet, in a maniacal sort of way. "I am not an unreasonable person and thus I shall grant you one chance to redeem yourselves. You shall be escorted to the dungeons where you shall have three choices. One, you can wait in silence until my men come to claim your lives. Two, you can confess to your crimes and then trade them in exchange for telling my guards of the location of both the king and the traitor Galois. Or three, you can seek information from those others that we are keeping prisoner there and once you have discovered the location of the king and the traitor Galois, you can trade such information for your lives."

Ronon still hasn't moved and Sheppard doesn't want to think what an extended trip to dungeon hell will do to the injured runner. The colonel licks his chapped lips, the lack of water making it harder to focus by the moment. Three choices, huh? Didn't really sound like more than one, because he's not about to sell-out these villagers to an over-the-top bad guy—gal. His gut sinks from the ominous feel of the whole situation, but he locks stares with her once more, willing for her to understand their position.

"Or you could accept our help and have a much higher chance of finding your son." He pushes his shoulders back, wincing in pain as his body makes its various displeasures known. What he wouldn't give for a cool shower and a soothing massage.

The queen steps forward, her garlic-laced breath not helping his already nauseated stomach. "You have ten hours before all offers are rescinded and your lives are publicly terminated. Of course," she offers an evil smile that Sheppard doesn't like one bit, "your friend here does not have nearly that long." She moves her long, bony finger under the runner's drooping chin. "The _canonic _poison, which laced the very blade he was stabbed with, will kill him in little less than two hours. If you wish him to live, you _will_ find a way to tell me all that I wish to know."


	6. Beating Drums

_A/N: This is a difficult story to write. Thanks to everyone who has offered encouraging words; they've made a gold mine of a difference. Thanks to Kodiak Bear Country, Sholio, and Ang W for their amazing beta-ing skills._

* * *

Chapter 6: Beating Drums 

Rodney concentrates on moving his left foot in front of his right but somehow manages to get the movement twisted. His topple is saved only by the cave wall, his hand pressed firmly against the rock for balance. He's not sure how long he's been walking, but he is sure that he's not willing to move anymore. When Galois tells him just a little further, McKay sends the most furious glare imaginable before replying, "That's what you said five miles ago. I don't care that you all have guns and I don't, because I have had it. You understand me? I am _not_ moving one more step."

Galois' reaction is not what McKay is expecting. He smiles that damnable jovial grin and claps McKay on the back with Ronon-worthy strength. "If you wish to sleep out in the hall, that is your own choice. I will be keeping watch out here myself. However, I would be a negligent host if I did not to mention the hospitable beds that lie no more than twenty steps away from here."

Bed? Twenty steps? Closing his eyes, he braces himself for the small trek that seems so impossibly long. His calves are begging for him not to try, the tight muscles flaring in agony, but a bed sounds so much nicer than a cave's moist floor. He pushes himself away from the wall and limps forward in tiny motions. Galois takes a hold of his arm, helping him forward. "You are not well," he says.

"Oh really, and what gives you that idea?" Fifteen more steps to go. Fourteen.

"Besides the fact you've nearly collapsed twice? You're pale, shaking, and you didn't eat much of that food you were carrying. When we get you situated, I'll have Renier take a look at you."

Thirteen steps. Twelve. An extended arch lies just a few feet ahead and as he crosses under the threshold his awe overtakes the pain. If the other room was covered in Ancient technology, it was nothing compared to this. Beakers align the walls, all filled with various chemicals. Medical scanners, just like the ones they have in the infirmary, are scattered throughout the large circular area. So much equipment it's like stepping foot in Atlantis. There is even a control chair in the center of the room.

"Welcome to headquarters. Is this more to your liking?"

He realizes his jaw is hanging open and quickly closes it before more drool can drip down his chin. "Oh yeah," he says with the largest grin he can imagine.

There are no signs of the promised beds, but Rodney doesn't care anymore. He races towards the chair, his index finger caressing the metal armrest.

"Hold it!" a voice cries. "Turn around, now." Gaston, the only guard Galois has called by name enough times for McKay to remember it, is pointing his Ancient weapon once again at McKay's chest, as are a few other guards. "Good. Now back away slowly."

See, now that is just unfair. How is it that he ends up in a room that can only come from his sweetest dreams, only to not be allowed to touch anything? Another item for his book: Pegasus will taunt you. She takes great pleasure in this and you shouldn't give her the satisfaction.

When did Pegasus become a she to him? It's a galaxy, not a living entity. It's as silly as Sheppard giving the various Puddlejumpers names.

"It would be best, McKay, if you did not examine our equipment. While I am sure you have the expertise to understand what most of this is, you must realize that security is of the utmost importance here." Galois motions for his guards to lower their weapons, and McKay is glad to watch them comply.

Rodney holds himself back from asking just how much of the machinery _they_ understand, deciding it's best if he just watches and finds out for himself.

"You mentioned beds, I believe?" He uses his best snide voice while his mind silently maps the room. That is something Sheppard emphasizes whenever he insists on a training session: Always know where you are, where you are going, and all the possible ways to escape.

"This way," a woman's voice says in much the same way an old librarian tells a patron to keep quiet. His eyelids are closing so he doesn't waste any energy on trying to see what she looks like, he just follows the blur in front of him. There really are beds here. In fact, there is a whole hallway full of doors, each leading to a room with seven to eight bunks. They're made of an Ancient metal that is miraculously not rusted, and after pushing on the rails a few times, he decides they're safe enough to crash on.

He can see the Wraith standing over him again, and this time it immediately registers that this is a dream. His subconscious can only play this game so many times. But just as he's about to push away, a cool hand falls on his shoulders. The creature is gone, replaced by a woman with gray streaks along her brunette hair.

"Galois said you should eat. This is the best soup we have to offer."

He sits up, grabbing a ceramic bowl from her hands. "Thanks," he mumbles between sips.

On the adjacent bed, Frobinius is sitting cross-legged, his arms wrapped around his chest. The bowl of soup lies untouched on the floor. "When my mother finds out who you all are..."

"Be quiet already!" shouts one of the two men guarding the entry way.

"I shall not, and how dare you speak to your king in that manner. I shall have you executed the moment we return. And don't think that I won't do the same to your children. _Traitor_."

McKay is starting to wish the guards would just stun the kid and save all of them a lot of hardship. The woman who brought him the soup is now pressing her wrist against his forehead and asking him to open his mouth, and so he figures she's probably a doctor since he doubts she is flirting with him. Not that he likes older women anyway.

"Your body is exhausted. Get some sleep and if you don't feel better in the morning, we'll run a few scans."

McKay nods, and pushes himself back onto the bed. There's more than a thing or two that doesn't add up about this culture, pieces he'll need to figure out eventually. First and foremost, why is it the Wraith haven't destroyed them if they possess this much technology? Surely the jamming field would have been the first clue to something being amiss? And why do they still carry swords if they have Ancient weapons? The people above seemed to live with little to no technology at all, while these empty caves contained Ancient marvels. It reminds him a little too much of the Genii, and that's just not a pleasant thought. At least he hasn't seen any nuclear arsenals lying around.

The Wraith is standing over him again. It hisses as it readies its left hand in the air. My, what pointy teeth they have.

"The better to scare you, my dear," the Wraith says.

McKay groans because there is no reason why a Wraith would ever say that in real life, it's a painfully horrible line. So why his subconscious chose to throw it in this dream is anyone's guess. Stupid, idiot part of him that created this illusion should really be slapped over the head. When did he fall asleep anyway? And why did the Wraith have to have such putrid breath?

He makes a decision not to participate in the dream. He's determined to hold to it even as he sees that horrid hand come closer and closer to his chest. It's only a nightmare; he'll wake up as soon as it is done. But then another thought comes to his mind. It's been said that if someone dies in their dreams that they can die in real life. Something about the heart stopping and the shock and… The hand is less than an inch away when he grabs the slimy arm, pushing it away. It's probably just nonsense, the part about dying, but he's not about to find out.

He manages to roll to safety, his adrenaline racing. Where is his team? He has to get to them. He has to save them. They disappeared and now if Rodney can't fight, they'll all die. _No. It's just a dream._

He's in the cave, racing through the many corridors, a cramp in his left leg forcing him to limp. He peers into each of the rooms, seeing them filled with sleeping women and children, all unaware of the Wraith that is chasing him and is far too close for comfort. He's in the control room now and there is a woman—no, a Wraith—with straight white hair and a dress that would look hot on any woman _not_ trying to kill him. She is sitting on the chair.

"I can destroy them all with just a few thoughts." Her voice echoes against the rocky walls.

Elongated, scaly hands grab forcefully onto his own. He is flanked by two of the Wraith guards; their hidden faces makes their jobs easily recognizable. He struggles, but their grips are so tight it only serves to tear at his skin.

Wraith can't use Ancient technology, the gene makes sure of that. But somehow the chair lights up as she leans back on it. "I can find your friends first. Destroy them. When I am through, I can kill every last villager that dwells here. And you...You are so weak. You make it almost too easy. "

The Wraith Queen smiles much as the Cartesian Queen does, with a permanently attached sneer. The blue lights from the chair sparkle in the various beakers filed across the room. His eyes fall on a rounded one, filled with an amber liquid. His eye twitches. His hearts skips a beat. He has a connection with the enzyme now, and he can smell it even from this distance away as it calls to him.

The Wraith Queen may be right, maybe he is too weak to do anything now, but these people need him. That one girl was pregnant...And how many children were here? What of Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon? How ironic that the geek has to keep saving the warriors, but McKay will do what he must.

Unfortunately, his guards are far stronger than himself and all his efforts of breaking loose are thwarted before he can make any headway. "Stupid, ugly brutes that came straight out of a bad horror movie."

"Come now, that's not nice to say about my children." The queen closes her eyes and immediately the worrisome sound of a swish rises from the floor. He falls over when the familiar tint of a yellow drone breaks through the ground and then the ceiling. The explosion shakes the entire room as rocks tumble from all around him. The Wraith guards disperse just as debris crashes against McKay's arm. The warm liquid races down the goose bumps on his pale skin.

The women and children are screaming now as everything continues to fall around them. He looks for something, anything to grab onto, but find nothing.

The queen has not moved from her seat. "Even if you could get to the enzyme now, it won't help you. You should have thought to have taken some _before_ we arrived."

McKay can't get himself to sit up. Glass smashes around him; the room shakes. He's not strong enough to so much as stand. So this is how he is going to die. Buried alive. Buried... He barely feels the scrape against his forehead before everything turns to black and the dream ends.

"I demand you tell me what is going on out there."

The angry voice is that of a child's. Where did a child come from? He blinks his eyes a few times, forcing the cloudiness away. King Frobinius and a few guards come into focus. The kid's words register and immediately Rodney's hopes begin to rise. Something is happening. The cavalry perhaps?

"I could easily replace the gag, _Sire._" Gaston is now one of the guards, his wavy black hair falling down onto his shoulders. Combine that with the sarong, and McKay's still not entirely convinced he's a guy. But he is all for the re-gagging of King Frobinius. Every time the kid opens his mouth, McKay is reminded of just why he will never have children of his own.

Raised voices emanate from the control room but McKay can only make out snippets. "They've burned half the city." "So many dead." "We have to fight back."

He's never heard voices filled with so much sorrow and panic before, and it makes his own body quiver. Galois is speaking now, his voice calm and sedated in contrast. "We knew that this might happen. My men are in position and we need only to assist for our voices to be heard."

Frobinius' face is white as he paces the barracks. "What are they planning. Tell me!" He turns to McKay who can see the tears streaming down the child's bony cheeks. "Please, you have to help me. They will kill my mother. I know it and she's all that I have now that Galois has betrayed me. I beg you, Sir, though it be below my station to do so. You must not let them prevail!"

The tough exterior completely broken, the kid crawls onto the floor wiping his nostrils with the end of his maroon cloak while letting loose a few pathetic sniffles. "I'll have you executed if you don't help me. And all your friends, too."

Repugnant little creature isn't he? McKay's not sure whether he feels sorry for the brat or not, but he does come a bit closer, handing the kid a handkerchief out of a vest pocket. "You know, I'm bad with people, but even I know threatening to kill them every fifteen minutes doesn't endear them to my cause."

"I am their king. They should love and fear me at all times."

"Yeah, well I'm a genius; it doesn't mean I get the respect I deserve either."

The voices in the other room have died down into whispers and Rodney can no longer make out any of the words much less who is speaking.

The sniveling brat that is Frobinius is trying to choke down his sobs and only succeeding in hiccupping in the process. "I don't want my momma to die. It's not fair."

What is he supposed to say to that? The queen mother he had seen the other day had looked a bit snot-nosed herself, if not a complete bitch. However, Rodney could say the same about his own mom, and he still grieved when the cancer took over her body. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he lies because he doesn't know what else he could say.

The child curls into a little ball, the handkerchief pressed against his cherry nose, his head now resting in McKay's arms. Rodney's not sure how he got in that position and he's scared because he's never had to comfort a child before, not really. But Frobinius' whole body is taken by violent sobs and McKay finds himself patting the child's head, assuring him that it will alright. The king is just a kid after all.

Voices erupt from the control room once again and Rodney can hear the various sounds of shuffling feet and machinery. Galois appears in the doorway, his face red, his breathing a little fast, but otherwise collected. "You will come with me, McKay."

Rodney half pushes, half shoves the child away from him, glad to have an excuse to leave the uncomfortable position even as he feels a tinge of guilt at abandoning him like this. That's the problem with kids, they don't know how to hold in their emotions and they're too damn needy.

"Fronier has arrived with news from the village. The queen mother has taken dreadful action against what we have done here. She has burned many homes with people in them, all in the hopes of silencing our revolution."

Galois pauses, letting his words sink in, and McKay is sickened as they do. Fire isn't a pleasant way to die. Still, how were these people expecting her to react? Don't piss off the lady in charge by kidnapping her son. That has to be general common sense.

Instead of responding to his question directly, McKay decides to ask an old one again. "What are we doing here? What is this place?"

"We have brought what children we could to this haven for their safety, anticipating that the Royal Court would have this reaction. If the Ancestors are willing, the soldiers will take days to find this place, maybe even weeks, and hopefully that will buy enough time for the kids' survival. The rest of us have waited here to make sure we are around for the second wave of attacks. We will not just stay here and allow our government to murder us, to murder our children."

Galois holds his arms tightly behind his back, pacing to and fro in the control center, and McKay follows him with a sorrowful gaze. The people around them are scurrying about, polishing their blades, checking the Aurora-like weapons, and gathering equipment. He notices that some of the women around him are saying goodbye to teary-eyed little brats.

"She has given orders that anyone found to be in the resistance is to be burned on site or imprisoned for later execution. But as for the children...The queen, in her infinite kindness, has decreed that all of our children are to be murdered without hesitation or pause."

There is a hollowness in McKay's gut as he listens carefully to Galois' words. He's heard of some lousy decisions before, but this? The soup from earlier is already crawling up his esophagus at the very thought. "So you're planning to go and fight now. Execute plan B and hope the children are able to hide here until you are able make it back?"

Galois nods sadly, his eyes downcast. He looks a decade older than he had the night before. "You understand well. Do you then know what I must ask of you?"

No no no. This is not a Rodney McKay job. Leave it to Teyla, or some other woman, or anyone else other than him really. No no no. But he sees the scars once more on Galois' arms and the way the man—the one that was so collected before—shakes, trembling ever so slightly.

McKay can also see the ten or so children, all of varying ages, around the room. There is a girl in tight braids, so similar to the one in his dream and yet completely different. She brushes away her own tears and clings to a gangly woman's chest. "Must you go, momma?" the girl cries.

No one deserves to die in a fire. Children don't deserve to be murdered, no matter what their parents did. "I'm not the best with kids. Can't you have someone else stay here?"

"I ask only that you protect them to the best of your ability. You will find they mostly take care of themselves. I realize you need to find your friends and what I am asking you to do directly contradicts this, but only for a short time. Please, these children need someone to stay who can fight, and I need all of our number helping at the barricades. Every man counts."

McKay takes a step or two back, terrified at what is being asked of him. Terrified because he doesn't know if he can say no. But it's not his battle and what of the rest of his team?

Galois counters his actions by taking a step forward, his penetrating green eyes meeting McKay's blue ones. "I believe you to be a decent man and I am willing to trust you with this if only out of desperation. I know this isn't your fight, but you could stay here and keep them safe. That is all I ask, and I plead with you to assist us in this great matter."

Kids. Never wanted them. Can't stand them. About to inherit ten of them. Crap. Pegasus really does have something against him, doesn't it?

"What of Frobinius?"

"It would be best if I killed him so that he could not betray these tunnels, but I cannot bear to do so. You asked how kidnapping him was protecting him? If I had not done so, someone else would have, and his blood would have been on my hands. Or worse yet, he would have remained under the control of our queen. Frobinius is as a second son to me. You must keep him here where he too is safe. You must also make sure that he does not escape, for if he does, all of these children's lives are forfeit."

He can't do this. No way in hell can he do this. No way... His thoughts stop as does all motion, his eyes falling on one of the beakers. The amber liquid is unmistakable and he wonders if his subconscious had seen it last night, or if his dream was just prophetic. His cheeks grow ice cold and his chest stops moving in and out. It's really there, the enzyme. How? No…

"What is this place?" he manages to say despite the lump in the back of his throat.

"We don't really know. I suppose the Ancestors dwelled here many millennia ago. We are a humble society. Swords were the best weapons at our disposal until someone discovered the caves a few years back. Frobinius' mother had official control of the edicts back then, and thus this new technology as well. So much room for us to grow and evolve with it, to help us feed ourselves more and stop living in this slum environment, but I still stood back and watched the lesser among us suffer.

"Fronier discovered a few more caves just a short time ago and thus our resistance was born, the technology in the hands of the people. This has been a long time coming, McKay." Galois straightens his back, his countenance filled with a determination Rodney has only seen in Sheppard in the most dire of circumstances. "Will you do as I ask?"

Rodney is terrified, but he can't break his eyes away from Galois'. He is too weak to do this. Forget all of the having to be strong, there are just some things that Rodney McKay cannot do and this is one of them. "I..." He sees Fronier next to the pregnant woman, gently caressing her wide belly and smiling despite the wetness on her cheeks. A four-year-old girl in pony tails races by with a smile, seemingly unaware of the pain around her.

_If they die, it will be your fault._

The words from his dream echo in his mind, taking on a new meaning in this chilled cave. Hugging his arms to his chest, he nods slightly. He takes the guns that Galois offers him, both his nine-millimeter and one of the Ancient models. He nods again, forgetting temporarily how to speak.

Galois races toward a gathering of people. "We must go now. Be strong, be alert, and you shall survive this dreadful but glorious morn."

The large cavern empties bit by bit and Fronier once again tips his head to the pregnant woman's before racing to join them. Galois grabs the youth's arm. "No, Fronier. Stay here. McKay will need your help."

"I am not a child. I must fight."

"You are not yet sixteen, Fronier. You will be a great warrior one day, but now is not the time."

"No! This is my battle as well, Captain. Please."

Galois and Fronier lock eyes for a brief second, before Galois' cast downward. "Very well. Say goodbye once more to your sister."

Fronier nods before turning back to the pregnant girl. He whispers a goodbye before doing a perfect about-face and racing away.

The woman that had brought him soup emerges with a struggling Frobinius. She approaches McKay with a weary smile and speaks in the same librarian tone he had heard before. "Here he is. Keep a good eye on the monster." She turns then, joining the others on their journey away from the cave.

Frobinius stops struggling the moment McKay gets a firm hold on his wrists. He shoots a furious glare back at McKay as another tear rolls down his cheek. "You could have saved her," he says.

"Come now, Sire. You should rest." The pregnant woman approaches, curls bouncing against her rounded face. The slightest hint of a smile crosses her flushed face as she takes him from McKay's grasp.

The last to leave is Galois, who turns once more to face Rodney. "You are a brave man, McKay. We are all in your debt."

Rodney watches him go, a lump still lodged deeply in his throat. Ten sets of blood-shot eyes stare back at him and a series of sniffles fills the air.

END PART TWO

Next: PART THREE: Choices

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	7. The Value of a Life

_A/N: Thank you so much for the comments! They mean a lot to me!  
_

_A/N: Thanks to Kodiak, Ang w, and Sholio for the amazing betas! Where would I be without you?_

* * *

Part Three: Choices 

Chapter 7: The Value of a Life

This whole mission has been a bust from the start. When Sheppard first saw Rodney lying in the infirmary and Carson's worried expression, he should have postponed the mission. Yes, he'd needed to get out again, and he thought Rodney needed the same, but now look where it got them. True, their situation right now has nothing to do with Rodney's, but just the general ominous beginning was enough to know things would go wrong. And now Rodney is god knows where, facing who knows what, while he and Teyla are here watching Ronon die.

Their fellow prisoners aren't in much better shape. He's seen a few exhibiting the same symprtoms as Ronon, but none seem to have the ability to fix it any more than Teyla and Sheppard, if they did, they wouldn't just be lying there waiting to die.

"That was just the first step of the uprising. Give it time and we'll all be out of here shortly," one of the prisoners says. He gives an unnecessary wink as if Sheppard is supposed to keep the information under his hat, but if this guy is willing to tell someone so out of place as the colonel, he's probably told everyone else that would listen. The short man is slender, wrapped in clothes that are little better than tattered rags. He walks with a bit of a limp.

"Captain Galois has someone taking care of my daughter over in his hideout, promised to take good care of her while I was in prison here. He's a good man, don't listen to what people say about him otherwise, because they don't know just how much he's been helping us people down here." The man's eyes roll away from each other, never keeping in one place. Every time he gives a playful jab and smile, he reveals his black, rotten teeth. "Of course the cavalry is probably nearly here with their Ancestral miracle machines, ready to break us free. I hear the queen's been looking for Galois since the uprising started and she doesn't even realize he's hidden right under her nose! Given how large it is, I guess that's not surprising." The man's laugh is long and well...disturbing. Sheppard doesn't have to ask how long he's been here, because it's clearly been long enough to loosen a few screws.

Sheppard manages to get away from the prisoner by insisting that he has an important mission for the revolution. As he continues his trek through the vast dungeon, he wonders just how much Ronon's life is worth. That man all but told him where Galois was and that was the deal, wasn't it? Sell his soul by telling the queen, help quench the revolution, and his payment is the life of one for the death of thousands. Shit. The big issue with it all is that he's actually considering it. He never wanted to be a part of these people's revolution. Never asked for anything of the sort. He shouldn't have to decide between them or a friend, because it's just not fair to ask.

He thinks more of Rodney, and that's something else that he knows. If it were Rodney in Ronon's place, he wouldn't be hesitating. He would sell Galois and these people out in an instant because he couldn't bear to let Rodney suffer like that...To let Rodney die when he could have done something about it. He's not so sure he'd do this for Ronon. Maybe it's because the runner is a warrior and warriors die, it's just the way the universe works. Still, Rodney has become a warrior too, hasn't he? That's what got him in the last mess, having to play hero, and now...

Damn. He can see the horror in Rodney's eyes if Sheppard actually did it, betrayed the lives of thousands all for the life of one man. No, he wouldn't sell out Galois for Rodney's life either, because then Rodney would never forgive himself nor Sheppard. Soldiers, his whole team is comprised of soldiers and that means they recognize one thing: There are things worth dying for, people worth dying to protect. Taking one last glance back at the crazy man, Sheppard sighs, clenching his fist in undirected anger.

He finds his way back to Teyla. "If there is a way out of here, I'm not seeing it. But people here are waiting for something. We might be looking at a full jail break in a couple of hours."

"I do not think Ronon has that long."

"Yeah. I know. We may have to get ourselves out."

"There are no windows, no doors, and no signs of technology."

"Aren't you normally the optimistic one?"

"I did not say that we would not find a way, only that it would be...difficult." She dabs a damp cloth against Ronon's forehead. Sheppard's seen more than his share of dead men, and Ronon doesn't look that much different. He's so damn still.

"I'll go see what else I can find out." He jumps to his feet again, taking one last glance at his motionless friend. If ever there was a time for Rodney to play hero and show up with the Daedalus, this would be it. Still, he can't shake that ominous feeling that Rodney is in at least as much trouble as they are, and the scientist was never meant to be alone on any off-world mission. Damn, this day sucked.

SGA

Water is a marvelous offering from the Ancestors. The refreshing liquid soothes Teyla's dry throat and she finds herself smiling for the first time in hours. It is amazing how such simple things can bring joy, even in chaos. Even in sorrow.

She caresses the moist brow of Ronon Dex, whose head lays gently on her lap. Ronon is rarely overtaken by his weaknesses, and when he is, he recovers quickly. It is this knowledge that terrifies Teyla. She wipes a black, moist cloth against his burning forehead, knowing that too much time is passing by. Ronon has yet to move. His wound has stopped bleeding but his breaths come in slow wheezes. She grabs his hand, holding it to her cheek. "You are strong. You must continue to hold on and we will get you through this."

The dungeon is little more than a vast, stone room, deeply entrenched in the Cartesian ground. The stench of mold and human sweat makes breathing difficult, but it is still better than the smell of burnt flesh, an aroma she will not soon forget.

The people here are covered in red and orange dirt. Many look as though they have lived down here, forgotten, for at least a decade. Their skin hangs loose from the bones, and desperation darkens their countenances. Many of them stay near the walls, keeping to themselves, only showing movement when food arrives. Others have been here far less time, some brought in after Teyla's arrival. Their faces are covered in red and black soot, some harboring injuries, many of them weeping. One woman, wrapped in a torn cloak, rocks back and forth, hugging her knees to her chest while mumbling softly.

Teyla watches all of this with an uncharacteristic detachment. Her instincts are to reach out to the unfortunate souls trapped here, but she dares not leave Ronon's side. She whispers to the Ancestors for all to hear, for Ronon, and just as she readies to close her prayer, she asks for Rodney's safety and well-being as well.

A few steps away, John approaches shaking his head. "Nothing. I don't even know where we could begin trying to escape."

"There is always a way, Colonel."

"I didn't say I was giving up, just that I'm not seeing it yet."

It was one hour ago that they had been transported into this dreadful place. The first thing they had noticed was the distinct lack of guards, windows, and doors. After attending as well as they could to Ronon's injuries, Sheppard had begun asking questions to their fellow prisoners, returning every ten minutes only to shake his head and say he found nothing.

One hour. The queen had said Ronon had two at the most, and they were still no closer to escaping.

"How's he holding up?"

Teyla doesn't reply, Ronon's hand still firmly clasped within her own.

There is silence as Sheppard checks the runner's bandage, and Teyla continues to dab the cloth against the burning skin. She is unsure how much time passes and she is afraid to find out. Somewhere along the line, Ronon became her friend just as John and Rodney had, and she is not prepared to lose any of them. She knows, however, that it is just a matter of time. One doesn't live the life of a warrior and not witness death.

A raspy male voice calls from behind, startling her from her reverie. "You are Galois' friends, are you not?"

She turns to see a man in tattered overalls and a shirt that was just the other day bright and full of flowers. The felt hat no longer adorns his head, which she can now see is bald but for a few strands of brown hair. "That's right. You are Leiben, I believe." She has always had a gift for remembering faces and names; it came in handy when it was time for diplomacy. The farmer was one of many Galois had introduced them to on their way into the village and she remembers him offering a silent warning, hinting that they should leave soon.

"I am Teyla and this is Colonel Sheppard." She would normally stand up to greet him, but she settles for simply bowing her head in greeting. She continues to dab the cloth on Ronon's forehead while he speaks.

"Sorry to see you in a place like this. What happened to your friend?"

Leiben takes a seat on the rust-red ground, his left arm firmly braced within his right hand. Blood seeps through his fingers. He is wincing even as he tries to smile.

"He was injured by the guards," Sheppard says. He brushes the dirt off his pants as he stands up, leaving streaks of Ronon's blood on his uniform.

"Yeah, that would be my problem as well. But your friend has also been poisoned, if I'm not mistaken."

"So we've been told. What do you know about it?" Sheppard asks.

Teyla continues to listen, but turns her attentions back to Ronon. There is little she can do but make him comfortable and that is maddening. Just like Sheppard, she is not one to stand around and do nothing.

"The _canonic_ poison is the trademark of the queen's guards. Some of the soldiers lace their swords with it in order to subdue the strongest of prisoners."

"Subdue?" She looks up at Sheppard, taken aback by his anger directed at a friendly stranger. The colonel's blood-soaked hands are clenched into tight fists. She knows that he is angry with the universe more than anything else, and he has been for some time now, but he is usually much better at hiding it. "I hardly call killing a guy subduing him! My teammate has little less than an hour to live."

"I am sorry to hear that. There are others here suffering the same fate. Our queen is not known for her mercy."

"We are not part of your revolution."

"Never said you were." Leiben leans next to Ronon, examining his wound from a distance. There is a haunted expression upon his face. "I am deeply troubled by your loss. It was never our intention for you to suffer with us."

Sheppard takes back his seat on the ground, glaring at Leiben as though he were the enemy. Teyla is not sure what to make of this, whether it is a need to focus his anger and frustration, or an underlying intuition within him. She squeezes Ronon's hand, before turning to the stranger. "The queen mentioned that this revolution could not have taken place without our distraction."

Leiben's skin lightens a few shades. His eyes fall to the ground. He replies in a somber, distant whisper. "That's right. When Galois brought you into the village, he made sure we all knew that it was time--that a distraction had finally presented itself. I thought that by warning you to leave immediately after meeting with the queen that you would be spared from the toils of war, but I see now that I was overly optimistic." His sunken eyes, empty and sorrowful, fall on a livid Sheppard.

"So if Ronon dies..."

"You must understand, friend, that my people have been suffering for a long time now. I myself watched as my wife was executed because she believed in a better life for all of us. I am deeply troubled by what has happened to you, but you must have seen for yourself the devastation and pain our queen has no qualms about carrying out. We had to fight and that meant taking what opportunity we could. I am sorry for what has happened to your man, but it was necessary."

Sheppard is visibly shaking with fury and Teyla can see that he is ready to punch the man in retribution. Instead he wraps his arms around his chest and closes his eyes. A moment later, his anger is gone, replaced by a nonchalant soldier's mask. "Look, I know what it is to fight for your lives and I have a pretty good idea what you have been facing. I'm not saying you're wrong for what you did, but I need_you_ to understand that this is my friend and I _need_ him to live."

"I already told you that there is nothing I can do. I'm sorry."

"The queen told us that if we told her where Galois was, she would give us the antidote."

"I'm sorry, I cannot..."

"And I'm not asking you to. All I'm saying is that if we wanted to betray you, we could have. People here aren't exactly the best at keeping secrets. The way I see it, we helped start your uprising and now we didn't stop it. That's two favors you owe us."

"We are in a dungeon, friend. What would you have me do?"

There is an unexpected movement on her legs, and it takes a moment for Teyla to realize that Ronon's body is convulsing. His face contorts, his muscles clenching and then relaxing only to clench again. His left eye is noticeably twitching above all the rest. Sheppard races to Ronon's opposite side, helpless to do anything but watch.

"It is okay Ronon. We are here," Teyla soothes.

Thirty seconds later, Ronon's features have relaxed, his body once again still. Teyla meets John's terrified stare before she once again brings the damp cloth to the runner's forehead.

John looks to Leiben who has yet to move. "There have to be options here, and I'm betting you know what they are. Tell me." He trembles as he speaks, his voice quivering in turn, but it's all so subtle Teyla wonders if anyone can notice it but her.

Leiben lifts his double chin in the air, looking between the three teammates. The blood continues to seep through his fingers and his green eyes blink three times too fast. "You won't like it."

"Try me," Sheppard says.

Teyla grabs another cloth and motions for Leiben to come closer. Their vests and equipment locked somewhere far away, they have no field dressings and John's dirt-encrusted shirt is the best they can improvise. When they had found the water, they were careful to wash the shirt as carefully as possible before laying it out to dry. It is still damp and there are only one or two scraps left. She grabs the last large one and begins to wrap his arm, carefully cleaning his wound first.

"I believe I mentioned there are others here all suffering the same as your friend. You see the woman over there, the one with the emerald cloak and the swollen face?"

"The one just now drawing water from the center well?" Teyla pulls the bandage tight and Leiben's body spasms beneath her hold. The wound was deep and she wonders just how long he allowed it to bleed. His overalls are stained in the crimson color, the blood causing the unusual fabric to cling to his side.

"I arrived here some hours ago. Early enough to see her not much better off than your friend."

"So what you're saying is that she has the antidote." Sheppard is back on his feet in an instant, but Leiben grabs his arm with his only good hand, painting a red smear on the colonel's arm.

"It is not the antidote. She is a good woman, Sheppard. She was a friend of my wife and the caretaker of my children for thirteen years. I allowed myself to get captured, carefully hiding a chemical where the guards could not find it, because it is my wish for her to live. It will only stave off death for as long as the bearer can take the solution every hour. It was my hope that we would be free from the place before it ran out; that we could buy enough time to secure the antidote."

"I thought you said there was nothing you could do? He is dying," Sheppard's eyes flare as he jabs his finger towards Ronon. "Give me the chemical. Now!"

"It's not that easy."

"The hell it is not. You are half the reason we are in the mess in the first place. You said it yourself, you owe us."

Sheppard and Leiben are both on their feet now, their faces only inches apart.

"I gave all that I had to her. You want to steal her life to save your friend? If this is the payment you ask, then go and take it. But know that you'll have to do so with force, and I'm guessing, _friend_, that you're not the kind of man that sells out one life to gain another."

"Is that right?"

SGA

Take one life to keep another. It's a hell of a lot different than thousands. Sheppard is close enough to see the finest detail in Leiben's sorrowful, green eyes. He takes another glance at Teyla and Ronon's still form before he asks, "Is that right?", and does a quick about-face.

He hasn't made a conscious decision, but he finds himself marching up to the woman in question. "I know you have what we need. What do you say you share the wealth." He crosses his arms across his chest, knowing the look is just as intimidating as it is casual.

The woman turns around slowly, her shoulder wrapped in a series of bloody cloths. Her frazzled blond hair sticks out at odd angles and her deep blue eyes are peaceful and kind, even in this hell-hole. "If I share with you, we will both die. Barely eight doses remain."

It's as though he is waking from a dream, his thoughts finally catching up to him. What the hell is he doing? This woman is no more than thirty-six. She is petite around the edges, but Sheppard figures it's probably a good guess that it's from hunger rather than anything else. Now here he is about to steal from her. He turns back to where Teyla and himself have set camp, only to see Ronon convulsing once more.

Ronon. He's been a team member for over six months now. Sheppard's already lost Ford, it's not time to lose another.

He turns back to the exhausted woman before him.

"My friend has risked his life to save a lot of people."

"Would he then want another to lose their life saving his?"

He knows the answer even before she asks the question. One life. Thousands of lives. That wasn't the point. "One dose. That's all I ask." One hour. That would leave her with seven more. Is that so much to ask?

She reaches into her cloak and pulls out the tiniest of vials before motioning for him to lead the way. He wonders if he should stop her, but can't bring himself to do so. A single drop falls onto the wound.

He's not sure what he expected to have happen. Maybe a twitch, or even Ronon's eyes opening. Neither happens though. Ronon remains still as Teyla continues to offer him words and prayers.

Leiben is still there, helping the woman in the emerald cloak to her feet. "Come Moivre, you should rest and gather your strength."

"It's not working," Sheppard says as though pleading for the girl to do something more.

Leiben is the one to respond. "It is. His wound was bad without the poison. You have still bought him time."

Teyla brushes a few strands of soaked hair away from Ronon's face. Her voice is soft and diplomatic, but filled with a sorrow that pulls at Sheppard's own heart. "Thank you, Moivre, Leiben. I know that this was a great sacrifice for you." She does not look towards Sheppard and he's too ashamed to try and catch her eye.

Another hour passes and they are still no closer to finding a way out. Ronon's fever is still there, but it had lessened for a while, only now beginning to rise once again. "If you plan to secure any more of the serum, now is the time." There is a harshness in her tone that makes him flinch back slightly.

"He would have died, Teyla."

"If we sacrifice all that we are so that we may survive, are we even truly alive?"

Sheppard makes no move to stand, and instead leans back on his arm. How many hours had they been here and still nothing? They've escaped from Hive ships before for crying out loud, what was so hard about a medieval prison? None of the stones move. No one has any tools, not even spoons, to try and dig tunnels. The transportation system has no controls on this side and there aren't even any guards around to trick into helping them escape. So all the classic moves are out of the question. How did they expect him to give up Galois' position even if he was willing to?

As for Rodney, well just assuming he managed to not transport himself into trouble and assuming he was able to make his way back to the camp, he has no idea where the rest of his team are. Even if he did, it's not as if the Jumpers were fitted with transporters--which was something Sheppard never did understand. So if McKay knew where they were, he'd have to fight the hundreds of guards or so that blocked the various tunnels leading to the transporter. Even on the enzyme, McKay wouldn't stand a chance. If he was smart, he'd bring a few dozen teams to fight his way in and then out, but Sheppard's not holding his breath.

Light steps come from behind him, breaking up his thoughts. He turns just enough to see Moivre return, her hood hiding the frazzled hair and pained countenance. She says nothing as she grabs the bottle and holds it over Ronon's abdomen. Without hesitation, Sheppard grabs her wrist.

"No. Look, as much as I want him to live, Leiben is right. I can't trade your life for his, and you said it yourself. You share, you both die."

"I am told you brought my people hope. Now I bring you the same."

He's not holding on tightly so she frees herself without much trouble, another drop falling on Ronon's wound, before she walks away.

Leiben returns at some point and helps Sheppard with Ronon's bandages. He ends up setting the rest of his camp with them and eventually Moivre joins them, but doesn't join in any of the talks. It's kind of creepy how she just sits there, staring. She's in shock, Sheppard realizes, and he wonders if maybe she was there when the buildings were burned, and the people, or if some other horror had befallen her.

Teyla, Leiben, and Sheppard all talk of escape. There's an old saying: given enough time you can figure anything out. Sheppard used to think that was true, but now he's starting to wonder. Maybe he does need that vacation Elizabeth keeps talking about. Eventually Leiben starts talking about his kids, but Sheppard isn't really listening. He's dreaming of some good R&R on the Athosian mainland. His whole team is there, just sipping cocktails in peace.

Another hour, another drop for Moivre and Ronon. He's well aware there is only one more dose left, but he's not about to give up hope.

Teyla's eyes keeping drifting closed, and the cloth falls from her weary hands. Sheppard is thinking she has the right idea, but nudges her awake anyway. If Ronon were to die, it would be best if they were all there for it. Not that he is going to die. Sheppard will figure something out. Something.

A deafening boom causes him to jump and grab the P-90 that he doesn't actually have with him. He looks down at himself grasping the thin air before quickly taking in his surroundings. A series of dust clouds fill the air as the entire room begins to shake. He can hear some people scream, but there is no shelter for anyone to hide behind.

Leiben doesn't scream or move. "I guess that would be our guys." He smiles, nudging Moivre away from his shoulder. She barely stirs, her eyes unfocused. Her fever has returned.

Bright white lights fill the room, but instead of new people arriving, the place just got a lot emptier. Sheppard's familiar enough with the swishing sound that he's not surprised when he feels the familiar sinking sensation in his stomach that comes from riding a transporter. The stone walls disappear and he sees Galois himself manning the controls of the Ancient device.

A soldier in a bloodied sarong, with deep purple bruises all along his forehead, mans a double-doored entrance. He holds out some of the Ancient stunners, handing them to the exiting masses. "Move it people. Follow the crowd and get the hell out of here. Grab a weapon on your way out," he barks.

Teyla is on her feet, and the two of them hoist an unconscious Ronon off the ground before joining with the rest. Beside him, Leiben carries Moivre, taking out the vial and putting the second-to-last drop in her mouth. He doesn't offer the last one to Ronon, and after a moment's hesitation, Sheppard decides not to mention it. They gave what they can already.

It takes a few tunnels to traverse their way out of the castle and into the burning town. Villagers without weapons have taken to throwing rocks.

The teenager from the other day approaches the ragtag group, coming face to face with Sheppard. He takes one look at Ronon and his face pales. Blood drips from the boy's chin onto his poofy shirt that is drenched in sweat. "If you want your friend to live, come with me." He then turns to Leiben, "You too, my friend. We may be able to help her yet."

"Lead the way, my dear Fronier," Lieben says.

Sheppard makes sure the gun is set for stun before he nods and follows, Ronon's weight bearing heavily against his exhausted knees. Now that he's not sitting still, the adrenaline is running in full force.

It takes a while, but eventually they're clear of the fighters. Ronon's arms are decidedly hot, not too much different than the fires they had seen back in the village. He brushes the trees back with his free arm, but still manages to get swatted with a branch or two. Leiben and Fronier are now some paces ahead and the jerky movements from Ronon can't mean anything good.

"Hold it!"

Leiben makes his way back as Teyla and Sheppard lean Ronon onto the ground, his body consumed by a new seizure.

"Come on, buddy. Don't do this to me! Just a little longer."

Sheppard barely sees the drop fall before it hits its mark on Ronon's abdomen. Sheppard offers a silent thank you, but Leiben doesn't say anything as he tosses away the empty flask, picks up Moivre again and continues to run. Ronon's body has stopped convulsing, so Teyla and Sheppard pick him up once again and they too begin to run.

"We must hurry." Fronier is some steps ahead of them, his gun out. They run into their fair share of soldiers, stunning many before the soldiers know whether they are friend or foe. The chaos is maddening and far too much like Afghanistan for his liking, but he concentrates on moving, if only to keep Ronon alive. All the while that they run, Fronier continues to speak between heavy breaths.

"When Galois found out where you were, he asked me to find you among the crowds and make sure you found your way safely to headquarters. Your friend, McKay, has been very worried about you."

"You have seen Dr. McKay?" Teyla manages to voice the question before Sheppard can, but he has to second the hope and relief in her voice.

"Yes, he is with the children now. We are almost there."

"Children?" He can't help it. Even with people shooting at him, and himself shooting back, even with a half-dead Ronon plopped upon his shoulders, he can't help but grin. Rodney with kids...This is going to be good.

"We are..." Fronier's voice cuts out, his feet coming to a stop. He holds out an arm, motioning for the others to do the same. "Those are not our men."

Sheppard brushes past a branch and the source of Fronier's trepidation is clear. There are twelve men, each dressed in sarongs not sullied from a battlefield. They stand on a circular clearing where blue dust covers the ground.

"I take it that's the entrance to wherever we're going?"

Fronier just nods. A bright white light shines once more and three of the guards have disappeared.

"Looks like they found a way in."

* * *

_About five more chapters to go. **Who wants double-rich brownies?**  
_


	8. McKay versus Pegasus

_Thanks to Kodiak and my fiance for the betas. Thanks to all reading! Thanks to those that review!

* * *

_

**Chapter 8: McKay versus Pegasus  
**

He's hyperventilating. There are ten kids, a child king, and a pregnant woman staring at him. He's supposed to protect them all. Shit. Shit. Shit. Hello, Rodney. Remember the part about you being weak and hating children? What the hell were you thinking?

"Are you okay?" a young voice asks in alarm. The brunette girl with the tight braids rushes up to him. She's eight, maybe nine. Her jaw hangs wide open and her hazel eyes are filled with terror.

He shakes her away with a wave of his hand, his throat still constrained. He just needs to breathe. No way he can help anyone if he's passed out on the floor. Though sleep does sound nice. There are some beds and... No. Gotta get control. Gotta think.

"I'm fine," he manages to mutter. The lights in front of his eyes start to drift away as his chest starts to move in a calm, rhythmic fashion. Everyone just keeps watching him. Ten kids, a bratty king, and a pregnant girl and they're all staring at him, expecting him to do something. Crap.

"We are grateful for all that you are doing for us." The pregnant woman, whose name has to have been mentioned twenty times now, but he still hasn't bothered to memorize it, is still holding Frobinius firmly in place. She's so young and her husband is probably up there, mixed in with all of the chaos.

"Right, well, um..." He focuses his attention on the technology all around him, the Ancient marvels no longer being guarded away from him. Now that is a Rodney McKay job. Choking back the lump in his throat, he moves the braided girl aside. "Alright, listen up boys and girls. It's late and I have work to do. That means you are all going straight to a room, and sitting yourselves down on a bed. No one is to say a word until your parents get back. Got it?"

"You can not be serious." It's the braided girl again. She stands a few feet in front of the rest of the children, her arms placed firmly on her hip. "Our parents are dying out there and you think we are just going to lie down and be quiet?" The snottiness in her voice reminds him of his sister.

"Yes, that is exactly what I expect. You," he snaps his fingers in the air, "pregnant girl, go get them situated."

"My name is Epina."

"Yes, yes, Epina, whatever. Grab the kids and move it."

"I'm not about to push them away in their time of need, McKay. Neither should you." Epina holds her belly; her face cringes as though she were in pain.

All thoughts of the kids behind him gone, he takes a step back. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine. The baby is just kicking. Please, take Frobinius for a moment."

He pries the weeping Frobinius off of her, and the king ends up weeping on him once again. Great, it'll take weeks to wash all the slobber off.

His gaze never leaves her plump face, though. Searching her features as though afraid she might explode, he takes a large gulp before asking, "Out of curiosity, and perhaps I should have thought to ask this before, but um, when exactly is your child due?"

"There is still some time. You have nothing to worry about."

He decides not to believe her and files labor under the category of another way Pegasus is likely to taunt him. He turns back to the kids. Apparently bored with the conversation, most of them have dispersed. A blond haired girl no more than four-years-old is the only one among them smiling. She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, her body occasionally twitching.

"Is she okay?" He's a little surprised by just how alarmed his voice sounds, because it doesn't take a genius to see what her problem might be.

Epina is leaning against the nearest wall, her pallor deathly frightening given the situation. "She is fine. Eilie is...touched. She does not live in the same world we do."

Perfect. Couldn't get stuck with normal kids, could he? "Anything else I should know about them?"

"Isaac is angry. He's the one with the red shirt; it symbolizes mourning. His mother was executed last week right in front of him."

It only takes a few moments to spot the red shirt along all the other colorful outfits. He's one of the few in denim rather than sarongs. Isaac is a preteen and his long black hair is curled much like Gaston's. There is something else familiar about his face though that McKay can't place. Isaac holds his head high, talking to some of the other children that are not so softly whining about the situation.

Seeing the streams of tears on the kids' puffy cheeks, and hearing the sniffles that have yet to die away, he feels something that is suspiciously like compassion creeping into his heart. He's not a stranger to this feeling since he's felt it for his teammates on more than a few hundred occasions, but to feel this for little brats? Back on that kid planet he had a few moments like this, but he had always thought it was indigestion.

Giving an exasperated sigh, he reaches for his tactical vest and grabs out a few of the golden wrapped wonders. "You guys know what this is?"

The circle of children look up at him with their wide-pitiful eyes and he's wishing the compassion part of him would just go away and leave him alone already. "It's chocolate. It tastes good and it will make you feel better."

The kids warily reach for the offering, Isaac trying it first before nodding to the rest of the kids. They sink their teeth into each bite, but none of them smile. All in all, the chocolate smudges on their frowns simply makes them look that much more pitiful.

"We thank you, Sir, for all that you have done for us," Isaac says between bites.

Rodney's body feels likes it's been weighed down with a few thousand stones, and even with all the excitement, his eyes are having a hard time staying open. Stars form before McKay's eyes and he barely hears the polite kid speak. His hand falls on one of the Ancient consoles as the fogginess begins to turn into darkness.

"Are you okay, Sir?"

He blinks a few times to stave off the exhaustion. It's been a long day, too damn long, and there is only so far he can push himself. "I'm okay. Just tired." As if further evidence is needed, he ends with a large yawn.

"You should rest. Epina and I can watch over the children."

It's tempting, but it also means having to dream. He doesn't have the energy for another nightmare and there is no way he can stay awake much longer. He's supposed to protect these people in this condition? Crap. No, he better get some rest or his weaknesses really will destroy everyone else.

He begins to stumble out of the room when he hears the kids starting to disperse and entertain themselves.

"Look at me, I'm the queen and you all have to follow my commands," the braided girl shouts. He turns to see her brush her hair back before sitting straight backed on the control chair with her chin in the air.

There's a pause as McKay half expects the chair to activate, but of course it doesn't and the next thing he knows, he's shouting, "Get away from there!" Wait a minute. Control chair. War. Friends out there. "Move it." Without waiting for a response he lifts her into the air and plops her down on the ground despite her angry scowl.

"Hey, I was here first!"

"None of you are to touch anything here, you got it?" There are no nods, but some of the kids turn around long enough to give him an incredulous stare before turning back to their various games. What was he thinking? He was about to leave a gang full of snot-nosed brats around the Ancient technology. Genius. Pure genius.

Willing his exhaustion away, he takes a seat in the control chair and...nothing happens. As if anything is ever that easy in Pegasus.

Braided girl smirks triumphantly at his disappointment. "Fronier couldn't figure out how to get it to work, what makes you think you can?"

"Because I am a genius and I don't live in a technologically backward society. What makes you so sure this does something anyway?"

"Fronier thought it did and he's usually right. And our society is not backward and I don't know what a genius is but I'm betting that you're really not one."

"I have an idea, why don't you go over there with all the other brats while I figure out how to save all of our lives."

He flings his hands into the air, shooing her away as if she were a puppy. What did he ever do to Pegasus to make the galaxy hate him so? Well, besides blowing up three quarters of her solar system...

Braided girl turns long enough to give him a large glare before moving to another console and taking a seat. "If I wasn't such a brat, I would be willing to help you. But I think I'm going to just keep all of my knowledge to myself." She crosses her arms around her chest, her head once again in the air acting smug. "So there."

"Yes, I'm sure that I'll suffer greatly for not having the knowledge of an eight-year-old."

He's vaguely aware of Epina whispering words of comfort to Frobinius, who is now sitting cross-armed on the floor. So he has returned to obstinate mode again, wonderful. This day just keeps getting better.

Crashing glass sounds from behind him. He whirls around to see the blond haired girl jumping up and down. She is throwing bottles onto the floor without discrimination. Some of the other kids are trying to hold her back.

He probably should first look to see if she is okay, but instead his eyes fall onto the shelf where the enzyme lies. If it even is the enzyme. Probably wishful thinking. Wait, why would he want it to be? No, not time to think about this. Gotta take care of—what was her name again?

Rushing to the fray of struggling kids, he comes and grabs the blond haired kid by the arm, pulling her away from the broken glass. She screams such as he has never heard a kid scream before. He's sure the headache she's causing will kill him sooner rather than later. He's able to restrain her easily enough given that he's a grown man and she's but a small child, but she is deceivingly strong. The rest of the kids back as far away as possible. Isaac steps forward.

"Eilie. Be still." At Isaac's words she immediately settles down, glancing at him with a strange smile that somehow reminds McKay of Stephen King's Carrie.

Allowing the preteen to take care of the situation, McKay brushes the moisture from his brow, his heavy arms complaining at the movement. God he's tired. Maybe sleep would be a good thing right about now. Sleep. Wait. Shattered glass, crazy kid, other kids. Taken by a new fear, he starts examining the brats for blood and bruises, making sure all of them are okay. Epina helps him out, pulling out a box full of bandages from a random shelf.

"You should get some rest. I will watch over the kids for now."

He wants to agree. Man, does he ever. But he can see her white face and how she's green around the edges. "I have work to do here and you're not well."

She doesn't deny it. She sits on the nearest chair, her breathing a bit shallow. It doesn't look like a baby kicking and it doesn't look like labor. This scares him more than he's going to say right now, because she really is just a girl, another kid he's supposed to protect. He can't do anything for himself much less for whatever plagues her. God he hates Pegasus.

His gaze falls once again on the broken glass that someone's going to have to pick up, and then to the intact bottles. He has no way of knowing if that is the enzyme, and if it is even in a form he can take, but damn if it isn't calling to him. He's weak. He has to protect. He needs to be strong.

"If you give me more of that chocolate, I'll tell you what I know." Braided girl now has a small bandage wrapped around her arm and a slight bruise on her cheek. Great, if the parents do survive they're going to think Rodney beat the kids.

"Yeah and what is it you know that would make it worth my while?" His voice is softer than he meant for it to come out. He doubts she has any useful information, but he takes out his bar of chocolate anyways, holding it just out of her reach.

"You won't find out until you give me that."

There's something in her face. Something completely unrelated to their current conversation and has everything to do with what's happening out there. She's trying to be strong, trying to keep herself from crying. He's not sure how he knows this, but he does.

He hands it to her, knowing it comes from the compassionate part of him that hates to see kids cry, even though he's still not sure where that part came from. She grins, holds her head knowingly up in the air and grabs his arm, taking him to the console. "Fronier always came here to look for the answers. Everything is cataloged in here from the throne chair to the bottles on the wall."

Now see, that shouldn't have cost him a sweet to find out. Truth be told, he should have looked for an information bank first but the snot-nosed brats had distracted him. Well, no time like the present to get started.

He starts out looking up a few things on the history of the place and the chair. He knows a lot about its basic workings, but it never hurts to see if there is something different about this one. He's reading for no more than a few minutes when he finds himself staring back up at the enzyme bottle. It's not covered in dust as it should be after 10,000 years. Maybe the Cartesians had just cleaned up nicely, or maybe the Ancients just had a miraculous dust repellent that worked for a couple millennia. Maybe that meant the chemicals here were preserved as well? Focus, Rodney. Turning back his attention to the weapons, he begins reading once more.

It's not a conscious decision to look up the various chemicals in the database, but he finds himself doing so anyway.

"Find anything interesting?" Braided girl has pulled up her own stool, her round face finding a pillow on her curled arms. Around him, several of the kids have found their way to beds or have fallen asleep in various corners of the room. Epina had offered a few of them to take a bunk, but many of the younger ones were too scared to be alone and wanted to stay in the room with the scary man that would protect them. He would never tell Sheppard this, but he actually found their determination to stay touching.

"Not really," he lies. Not much about the control chair anyway, and really, he should be trying to fix it instead of glancing through this database. However, he did find out about the chemical. This had been an Ancient research lab and they were running experiments on the Wraith as far away from Atlantis as they could get. They too were curious about the enzyme the Wraith released when taking hold of a victim, and they too were curious as to the possible benefits it might have in fighting them. If he wasn't sure before, he now knew that ten thousand years old or not, that was the enzyme. He doesn't want to think what a couple millennia could have done to the drug, but his heart is beating fast as he thinks about it. He's too weak to fight the soldiers...Maybe he won't have much of a choice in finding out just what that stuff can do.

Why did he come on this mission again?

Pegasus offers no answer; she never does. That's the problem with having an inanimate galaxy for a nemesis. She never has to answer for her cruelties.

"Help!"

It's a boy's scream and McKay's on his feet in seconds, his gun already in his hand and ready. The braided girl shrieks, taking a few steps back, but McKay's more interested in focusing his attention on where that scream came from.

"He..." The voice stops mid-word followed by a loud mumble. It's coming form one of the nearby rooms.

"Stay here," he shouts to the various kids waking up at the noise. Their terrified eyes sketched in his mind, he follows the hallway to the source of the scream. Epina follows close behind him and he's too focused to tell her to turn away.

The first few doors he opens reveal nothing but empty beds. The mumbles stop. The sound of something crashing to the floor is quickly followed by a scream and another, "Someone help me!" He recognizes the voice well enough now.

"Frobinius?" he cries. "Where are you?" His clammy hand clamps down on the fourth knob, his arm pushing the rest of the door open.

Epina gasps.

Two boys circle each other in the enclosed space. Frobinius is holding his arm, a streak of blood sweeps down his bony cheek. Isaac glares at him with a dangerous expression, a large shard of glass held tightly in his hand.

Not entirely comfortable with the idea that he is pointing his gun at kids, McKay takes in the situation in a second. Sheppard taught him that as well. You won't have all day to get your bearings, so get them quickly and act, or you're as good as dead. Not that McKay would die in this situation, but time is definitely a factor. Isaac is shaking with rage, his face tomato red and his brown eyes blazing.

"Both of you, opposite sides of the room. Now."

"He tried to kill me!" Frobinius yells.

"I am only doing what should have already been done!" Isaac screams back.

What was it Epina had said about the preteen. Angry? She neglected the part of angry enough to kill.

"Grab Frobinius. Get him out of here." McKay motions to Epina who has yet to move behind him.

It takes a moment for her to break the shock, but soon she has Frobinius' arm. "Come, Sire. You are safe now."

That just left McKay with the murderous preteen. His hand moves slowly, lowering his weapon. He is acting more bravely than he actually feels.

Isaac glares at him, looking ready to lunge. McKay takes a step back but doesn't raise the gun again. Neither says a word. He's staring down a teenager, a homicidal teenager. He's trembling himself, but he's trying to hide it. He's been here before, but that was long ago and long since stripped from his memory. He just keeps staring, knowing nothing he can say will change this situation.

It's Isaac who finally breaks the silent contact, the shard of glass falling to the floor. "He killed my mom, Sir. He gave the order. My dad, you should have seen his heart break. He's a good man and my folks were really as good as they came, and that boy took that from us. Why should he live?"

Isaac's face is almost unrecognizable amongst the tears. The fury is gone now though, replaced by the most frightened countenance McKay has ever beheld. Holstering his nine-millimeter, he takes a few steps forward, kneeling next to the child that has fallen to the floor weeping. "You're okay," he whispers. "You're okay."

SGA

Headquarters is empty and that is McKay's first clue that something is wrong. The place is quiet, the sniffles long since silenced. He walks toward the enzyme, the shards of glass cutting against his bare feet. He holds the bottle in his hand, imagining the liquid coursing through his veins, making him strong.

There is a pounding that echoes within the room but it comes from the other side of a door. Placing the bottle back on the shelf he follows the noise down the hall. The fourth door shakes and the pounding gets louder. His hand on his gun, he leans over and opens the door. Isaac and Frobinius lie on the ground, their bodies deathly still, covered in red liquid. He races forward, his fingers tracing along their skin, desperately searching for a pulse. He doesn't find one.

Screams, dozens of screams, come from all around him. No no no. This isn't happening. It has to be another dream. Just a dream._ Okay, McKay, you can do this. Just don't play. Don't move._

What if it's not a dream, though? _You fell asleep. Maybe they got in while you were..._ The screams grow louder but fewer in number. He clenches his weapon tightly in his hand before racing to his feet. How many of the guards could have gotten in without him noticing. Where did the others go? Oh god, he can't do this. He's not strong enough. _But you have to be. If they die, it will you fault._

He races down the hall, nearly toppling over once or twice. He recognizes one of the screams as belonging to the braided girl or is that just his imagination. How is it that he still doesn't know her name? Focus. Gotta help them. Gotta stop.

His body feels so heavy, weighing him down at each step. He's too weak for this. Too damn...The enzyme. Of course! It's the only way. The screams echo across the cavern. He finds his way back to the shelf and grabs a bottle. The Ancient variety of needles lie nearby and he grabs one.

Wait. What if this stuff is tainted after all these year? What if...? The screams sound even more and now he knows they're right behind him. He turns to see them, all of them, Epina and the rest all staring at him. None are screaming. Most are covered in blood. Braided girl steps forward.

"They're coming now. You must protect us."

It is a dream, he's sure of it now. He must have one hell of a demented sub-conscience for him to keep dreaming about this._ If they die, it will be your fault_. No no no. He can't be responsible. He can't...

Their screams now silenced and no immediate danger in sight, McKay falls back against the shelves, the beaker still clenched within his hand. Not going to die. Not going to die. Only a dream.

"You will have to be ready." It's Isaac speaking this time, his terrified face covered in blood. "You know what must be done."

"No, no...I..." His chest is so tight; it's hard to breathe. The stars are fogging up his vision again. The sound of soldiers' feet can be heard stomping on the ceiling of the cavern.

"They'll be here soon. Do something!" one of the girl's cry.

"I'm too weak. I can't..." The tears start to fall and he makes no move to brush them away. Whatever is lodged in his throat has completely blocked his airway. What the hell is he doing? What can he do?

He pulls the remainder of the powerbars out of his tactical vest and, taking some of the enzyme in the needle, injects it into each of them. "I'll do what I can," he whispers. "I'll do what I can."

He pushes past the kid and comes to the control chair. If he can get it to work, he won't need the enzyme. That would at least be something.

"Wake up, Sir. You need to wake up!"

He blinks the fog away coming face to face with a frenzied looking Isaac. There are no traces of blood on his face. His wide eyes stare with terror at the slowly awakening McKay.

"Please, Sir. You must help!"

Jumping away from the control chair -- he must have fallen asleep while fixing it -- he searches the kid's features. "What is it? Have they found us?"

"No, thank the Ancestors, no. But, please, Sir, you have to do something. Epina has fallen ill."

He follows the crazy preteen. Epina was supposed to be keeping a careful eye on both him and the crazy blond girl, but the tables had apparently turned. Many of the children have awoken again, peering out from their covers to see what is happening. Some of them, including the braided girl, stands outside of one of the rooms, looking even more terrified than they had before, if that were even possible. Braided girl is quivering as she asks, "Can you help her?"

Epina is lying on the lower part of a bunk, her face a mixture of gray, green, and white. Her eyes are unfocused, and she holds her stomach while cringing.

"You, go grab my vest!" he points at a random boy who scurries off faster than McKay's even seen a marine act.

"Do you know what's happening to you?" McKay asks, his palm pressing against her forehead. The heat is prominent enough hat he almost flinches his hand away, as though it had just touched fire.

"No," Epina's voice says softly.

"Alright. Just hold on, okay. I'll see what I can do."

Voodoo. It's just another job not made for Rodney McKay. He lost track of his pack somewhere, his mind so foggy he can't remember if the guards took it or he left it back in the ruins, but all his medical supplies are there. Most of them anyway.

The boy returns, biting his lower lip and holding out the vest. "Will she be okay?"

"I need you all to return to the main room and go back to bed, do you understand? I know you want to help, but she needs a lot of breathing room."

He has to give them credit. When it counts, the kids listen. Well most of them anyways. Isaac and braided girl are still standing there. "I said..."

"You'll be needing our help, I suspect. Irene here is the daughter of a medic."

McKay just nods, racing through his vest to see if any of it is useful. The problem: Epina is pregnant. The majority of medicines warn against giving them to someone in her condition. Crap. Definitely need Carson for this.

"I brought some of our supplies as well," the girl says, tentatively moving forward. The snottiness is still there in her voice, but it's more distant. She looks down, seeming almost shy now.

"Good. You know what any of this is for?" He starts shifting through the offered box. Bandages, some vials marked with meaningless symbols, and a few cloths.

"This will tell us how hot her body is, and this..."

He grabs the glass thermometer from her. It's filled with a mercury like substance. He puts it in Epina's mouth; she is worryingly silent. When he takes it out a second later he reads 365. Great. 365, whatever the hell that means. "What's normal?"

"310. 340 is a fever and 355 is a high fever."

Fifteen minutes pass and they're not much closer to finding out what's wrong with Epina. The braided girl explains what most of the medicines are for. There is a fever relaxer, but McKay is still hesitant to give it to her. What if the medicine kills the baby? Just another life he won't be able to save. Damn.

He's just sitting with her now. Wiping the white cloth against her forehead, fighting the never-ending war with his closing eyes. He speaks more for his comfort than for hers.

"So, um, I bet you're anxious to see your husband again."

"I don't have a husband." She coughs between words. Her face still cringed in pain.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I..."

"It's okay. Fronier tells me that he met you during the duel with Galois."

"That's right."

"Let's just say that my brother and the _dear _captain are...well...they very much enjoy the company of women. Fronier was just a little mad that Galois had brought me into their game..." She moves forward, the sweat pouring down her face. "Oh... Oh dear..."

"What, what is it?"

"I think...Irene!"

The braided girl has been dozing off, her head leaned against McKay's shoulder. She jumps forward at the screams. "What is it?" she cries.

"I...I think the baby..."

No no no. See, didn't he call it. There was no way Pegasus was going to let him out of this. But she's ill and...Not good. Not good.

"Now?" he says. "You mean...?"

Epina nods, but he can see that it pains her to do so.

"The illness must have induced labor," Irene says knowingly. She grabs the nearest box of materials and starts digging through. "You've never done this before, have you?" She turns to McKay to ask the question.

"I...No." Well, crap.

"Just do what I say and..."

"McKay!" A new scream comes from the other room, and Rodney takes a look at Isaac telling him to hold the situation, grabs his vest, and follows the sound of the voice back to the main room. None of the children are asleep now, all of them huddled together in the nearest corner. The oldest of these is no more than seven. She wears a pigtail tall on her oval head.

"What..."

"Can't you hear it?" she asks.

Shuffling feet. Lots of loud pounding. Footsteps and they're not far away. He comes up to them, whispering softly. "Everyone, find a bunk room and lock yourselves in. Stay as quiet as you can." No one moves; they're still huddling, staring at him with wide, petrified eyes.

He reaches for the gun in his holster, but he knows it won't be enough. There has to be at least twelve guards by the sound. They're still a little ways off; the cave's echoes makes them appear closer. "Now. Move it!"

The pack breaks away in a series of screams as they all scurry away. At least they were subdued, quiet screams.

He remembers that Galois gave him two guns. The Ancient stunner should be somewhere nearby. And the...the powerbars. No...That was just a dream.

He doesn't know why, but he finds himself taking one out of his vest anyway. He's light headed from not eating enough. Maybe a few bites would be good. He freezes as he stares at the wrapper, his fingers rubbing against the tiny needle hole. But it had just been a dream...

He must have been sleepwalking. That's the only way... Maybe this is just a dream, then. Oh please, let this be a dream

The feet are pounding closer. On instinct alone he pulls apart the foil and takes a bite. Ten thousand years old or not, he has to do something. Epina is dying. The kids are all hiding. They all need him. He takes another bite and then another. The feet get closer. Too close. He drops the bar and reaches for the Ancient weapon, pointing both at the entranceway. He's too weak for this, and he can't feel the enzyme course through his veins as it did in his dreams, he feels the same. He doesn't move though. Just points his weapons and waits. Weakness or not, he won't go down without a fight.

* * *

_Wow, that was an intense battle, writing this chapter. Let me know what you think, please. --starts handing out the angst stew and whump salad--  
_


	9. In A Daze

_Thank you so much for all the reviews. You have no idea how happy you all made me! Thanks also to Kodiak Bear Country, Ang w, and Sholio for the beta's.

* * *

_

Chapter 9: In a Daze

Time stands still. He can barely hear his ragged breathing over the approaching footsteps. His guns are level, shaking within his trembling hands. He can't feel the enzyme. He is still weak.

Trapped in another moment of eternity, McKay's amazed just how many thoughts can cross his mind while he waits to fight...to die. Something is wrong. Why was the seven-year-old the oldest of the children he had just sent away? Oh god, no. Frobinius. Where was Frobinius?

Damn. Damn. Damn! Between Epina's illness and everything else, he lost track of the one thing he was warned not to. _If they die, it will be your fault._ Never before had those words been more true than they are now. Frobinius must have escaped...He must have led them here.

He stares at the darkened entryway, imagining the entourage of guards appearing with each passing second. He almost fires his gun out of fear, convinced at one point that he has seen them, but it is only an illusion. Another second later, dancing shadows appear against the cave's wall. Torches in hand, weapons at the ready, the first soldiers make their appearance. Show time.

He doesn't fire. He just watches as they form a line before him, weapons aimed at the ready.

"Put your weapons down now," one of them calls out.

Sticking his chin in the air, McKay tries desperately to hide his fear. "I'm sorry, is there something...um...that you want?" He adopts Sheppard's nonchalant tone, but his voice quivers and his shaking guns aren't helping his charade.

"Lower your weapons and put your hands on your head. Now."

"No, I um...don't think I will, actually."

The leader surveys the room with calculating eyes, before making contact with McKay's blue ones once more. "Where are the children?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." One of the guns is beginning to slip through his clammy palm. A cloud looms over his vision. It's getting harder to focus. His chest is closing in. This isn't just stress. Something is very wrong.

"Do not play me for a fool. We know that you house ten rebel children here. Show them to us and we may spare your life."

He's not sure what the man talking looks like. His voice is as a distant echo.

McKay's passed out enough times to know that he's not far off. No. Gotta stay here. Gotta help... Think. Gotta think. Is the room swaying or is that just him? Crap.

"Search the room," the distant voice commands, and the movement from three of the guards is enough motivation for McKay to blink his eyes and concentrate on focusing.

"I can't let you do that. Anyone moves and I'll shoot." Does his voice normally sound that deranged? Don't these people know that he can easily take them? He waves one of the guns, a mad glint in his eye. "You don't know what I'm capable of." He has to save the kids. He is the only one. He can do this. He is strong. The familiar feel of the enzyme bursts through his body, ensuring him that he will win this fight. It's working. It's finally working. He smiles in delight.

The lead guard is a fool. He just looks at McKay as though he is joking, not knowing just how strong the genius can be. How strong the drug makes him. Rodney's taken out others before. Tonight will no different.

"You have until the count of three to tell us where the children are, or we will open fire."

"Is that right?"

McKay's nine-millimeter goes off before the finished count, but there are no cries of pain. Strange, he missed the target. The enzyme should have made him better than that. Bursts of light soar from the enemies' guns. The room tilts. McKay is already half way to the floor, already falling as he shoots the gun, before the bolts fly above his head.

His weapons fall with resounding thuds. His body won't respond. Everything is lost in a dizzying swirl. What's happened? Have they shot him yet? Is he dead?

Rough hands grab at his arms, metal clasps tightly against his wrists. Feet trample the ground beside him. A boy cries.

"Stop! I order you to stop!"

So Frobinius is still here after all.

Pain. Intense, horrific pain blocks out the child's voice. Something is happening around him, but he's too consumed by the throbbing in his head to find out what. He has to help...must...can't get to the kids. Can't breathe. Can't hear.

It's all fading but he still hasn't lost consciousness. The excruciating pain travels past his brain into his spine and legs. He screams. His body convulses. Oh god, this hurts. But the kids...

"McKay. Please, Sir, you must be okay!" Someone is shaking him. The child's pleading voice is distant. The pain is withering away, his breathing settling.

"What..."

"Please be okay, Sir. Just concentrate on breathing. You must be okay."

A cry from far away. A shrilling, horrible cry. A baby. A baby?

His eyes burst open, Frobinius is shaking him slightly, one of the guards lifts a white cloth before putting it against his forehead. It's so cold it makes his whole body shiver.

His hands are miraculously free, but hadn't they just been clamped behind his back? Doesn't matter. Gotta help the kids. He flails his arms, punching the guard with the greatest force he can muster. Hands lock onto different parts of his body and even with the enzyme as fuel, McKay can't break himself free. "I won't let you hurt them!"

The baby's cry continues to echo within the cavern. He keeps fighting, holding to that cry. He made a promise that he'd protect them. He can't be too weak. He can't be...

"Settle down or they will hurt you." It's Frobinius again but his voice is more commanding, more firm. "Everyone is safe."

The words hit home, the pain now completely gone. McKay relaxes his arms and feet, his struggle over. He focuses his stare on the young king. Forbinius is red faced and drenched in tears. "I didn't let them hurt them." His voice is almost a whisper.

It's so hard to think. Someone is helping him sit up, another handing him the damp cloth. "What just happened?"

The lead guard's scowl is replaced with a worried frown. His gun is holstered. Looking around, McKay can see that so is everyone else's. "The king has granted you and the children mercy. For now." McKay's not sure that the leader looks pleased about this or not.

Someone hands him a canteen. He drinks greedily, the wonderful liquid soothing his coarse throat. Frobinius drops down next to him, his body taken by violent sobs. "I had thought you were dead," he says between sniffles.

Ten thousand year old enzyme. Carson's going to have a fit when he finds out what he's been up to. It's the only explanation for...well...for whatever the hell just happened. At least he can now breathe. "I'm okay." He pulls Frobinius closer, offering comfort to the traumatized child. "It's okay."

"I led them here. I...They killed my momma and I was so angry. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to get hurt. I'm sorry I didn't stop them sooner. I'm sorry I betrayed you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

McKay rubs the child's back, his voice low and soothing. He's not sure what caused the change, but he's not about to question it either. The guards are all standing back, no one moving. He hasn't seen another child around, they must still be hiding. The baby's cries have long since died down. McKay looks up toward the lead guard. "The battle. What's happening up there?"

"As the king mentioned, the revolutionaries managed to make it to the queen mother. Galois has attempted to take control, but we still have a lot of fight within us. Now that we know the king is alive, we will fight until he is restored to the throne."

"No! I don't want it! Go away. Just go away." Frobinius rocks back and forth, barely heard over his large sobs. "They killed her. They really killed her."

"I'm sorry, Sire. We did all that we could. You must come now, your people need you to restore order."

Brushing away his snot with a sweep of his arm, Frobinius lifts himself back onto his feet. "They would only kill me as they did my mother, Captain."

"Not if your heart is strong, Sire. We will fight if you ask, but you could end this now. If you were to speak to Galois arrangements can be made...he cares for you, more than you know."

The child king doesn't move at first. His frown is perhaps the most pitiful that McKay has seen today, and that really is saying something. Finally, holding back the last of the sniffles, Frobinius nods. "Give me a moment."

The boy leans down again, a new gentleness in his eyes that McKay does not think was there earlier. "You should get help as soon as you can for whatever it is that happened to you back there. But you should stay here with the others. It will take some time to quell the battle."

Still unsure what to make of the situation, McKay reaches out a hand for someone to help him to his feet. His head throbs again, but nowhere near the intensity of before. His muscles are as lead as he leans against the nearest console. "You saved our lives?"

Frobinius' face cringes as he tries to hold the tears at bay. He races over, hugging McKay as best he can for his height. McKay tries not to think of the slobber the kid is leaving behind on his shirt. Between the sobs and the frenzied speech, McKay has to struggle to hear the words being said.

"He wanted to kill me, that older boy...he said I had a hand in his mother's death. I...I don't want to be a murderer. And you...you saved me from him. You chose to keep me alive even though you knew I would betray you if I had the chance. I...when I saw you fall, I'm not sure what it is, but I had this hurt in my stomach, and...I would have missed you if you died, Sir. I do not know why. I do not wish my people to suffer any longer."

There it is again. The compassionate part of him coming to the surface, feeling bad for the sniffling brats of the world. He can't think of much he can say, and he can't say this comforting a crying kid thing is so bad either. Better then dead anyway. "So I take it you're not going to have me executed," he jokes.

Frobinius shakes his head, the slightest of smiles crossing over his features. "Not today." The boy's body shakes as he stifles the remaining sobs. "Go now. Help the others."

McKay sways a little before finding his footing long enough to take a few steps. He's nearly to the first door when Isaac comes racing out, his wide terrified eyes locking with McKay's blue ones. If he's aware of the guards around him, he doesn't show it. "You must come now!"

Taking a gulp, wondering what else this galaxy could possibly throw at him, he follows the teen into the nearest room. One more reason not to venture in Pegasus: Just when you think she's done taunting you, she's not.

Braided girl—Irene—is rocking the silent baby, but her gaze is upon Epina. She looks ready to cry and McKay can see how gently she trembles. "You have to help her," she sobs.

McKay takes his place next to the pale woman's side. Her curls are drenched, clinging to her pale skin. There is no color to her lips and her eyes are closed. Her breaths are slow.

"You're okay." He's said that too much lately. He holds her limp hand in his, knowing there is nothing he can do. He waits for her next breath, seeking confirmation that some spark still exists, but it never comes.

She had seemed a nice girl. Now she's just another notch to add to his failures. His head falls upon her still arm. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

It's still hard to think. He should probably be doing something, but he's not sure what. The enzyme is still there, lulling in the background, but he's not sure what it's doing. Making him dizzy mostly. Isaac and Irene are there. He still has work to do.

Forcing himself back on his feet, he pulls the covers over Epina's peaceful face. "Gather the other children back in the main room." He grabs the baby from Irene as he says this. He's never held one before, and he's not sure what to make of the warmth it brings to his stomach. Drool is tracing down its mouth and it's kicking slightly. Irene apparently made him a diaper out of cloth, but McKay doesn't want to put the material to a live test. Still, it's not such a bad looking creature. Not really.

Half afraid of breaking the newborn, he makes his way out of the room. Most of the kids have already arrived, all of them appearing very much afraid. They huddle in the corner, eyeing their new visitors with trepidation. Isaac and Irene stand in front of the group as if standing guard. Crazy blond girl is held tightly in Isaac's hand and she doesn't look very happy about it. The rest are petrified. Children were never meant to live a life like this. McKay was never supposed to protect them either, but that's just how Pegasus works.

Frobinius glares at Isaac and McKay can't help but think that theirs is a battle that will not end for a while. Frobinius might not have the rest of them executed, but Isaac will be lucky to escape with his life. He makes a mental note of this, resigning himself to doing something about it before it's too late. But not now.

"She's dead, isn't she?" Frobinius asks. One of the guards is wiping his face clean, preparing him to meet with the people outside. McKay doesn't answer because there just isn't any way he knows how to say it. Frobinius, he's not such a dumb kid after all, he understands. "She was always nice to me." His eyes fall onto the baby within McKay's arms. "When this is over, I will find a good home for the child. For now, you must all stay here. It will take time for agreements to be made and the news to spread. It will not be safe for some days to come. Even then, I may not be successful."

More pounding steps emanate from the other corridor. Weapons again in the air, all the guards turn to see from whence they come. Just as before, it takes some time before the shadows appear. Not sure what there is left to be afraid of, McKay finds himself standing in front of the kids. One of the guards brings him his weapons and McKay levels them just on time to hear a soft crackle from across the room. His headset? Galois must have left it behind.

He motions for someone to grab the item for him and he places it on his ear. The sound of footsteps has subsided.

"Rodney? Please respond." Sheppard whispers. It's the sound of heaven as far as McKay is concerned. Finally, a way out of this mess.

"Colonel? Where are you?"

"Just outside the entrance of what our guides are calling headquarters. That should sound familiar to you. We took out the guards on the surface. How many you have on your end?"

"Whoa. What do you mean you took out some of the guards. How many?"

"Stunned a few. Shot some others. I didn't exactly stick around to find out. What's the problem, McKay?"

"You would shoot first and ask questions later, wouldn't you?" His voice is rising again in anger. It's not Sheppard's fault, just Pegasus striking again, but he's still high and about an inch from snapping. High. Huh. Doesn't feel as good as the first time.

"Rodney." Uh-oh, that's Sheppard's warning tone.

"We're fine, Colonel. All of us are fine. Don't come in shooting and we'll stay that way."

He expected a few smiles and hugs, the triumphant return of the cavalry from a war that is finally done. What he gets is another problem. Ronon, drenched with sweat and blood, is literally dragged into the room by a weary Sheppard and Teyla. Fronier appears next, helping another local with an unconscious girl. Fronier and the stranger take one look at the guards and draw their weapons again.

"You said it was safe here!" the kid shouts.

"Whoa. Put down the gun." McKay hands the baby back to Irene, taking a few steps forward. "They're not going to hurt us, or you."

"He speaks the truth, Fronier. I am going to the surface now to meet with Galois and end this tragic day. My guards will not harm you."

Sheppard is glancing at McKay, asking silently for answers. He's sweating under the brunt of Ronon's weight. Whatever has happened, it doesn't look good. So McKay takes another step forward to speak. "Look, I'm sure lots of interesting things have happened on our respective sides, but for now I need you to just trust me, Fronier. Help them get Ronon and...her...over to some of the beds."

"Father?" a soft voice calls from behind. Isaac steps forward, relief and fear evident in his features. "What has happened to Moivre?"

"She was touched by the canonic poison, son. There is not much time remaining," the strange man replies.

The tech/duelist teen is still for a moment before lowering his gun. The guards do the same in return.

A few of the saronged men step forward helping Ronon and the strange woman into another room. Sheppard and Teyla relinquish their load to him, looking close to passing out themselves. They move forward with the rest of the crowd, their faces covered in red dust. They seem little better off than zombies. But that's not what bothers McKay. He's seen them exhausted before. No, what worries Rodney is that Sheppard is scared. McKay knows him well enough to see that much.

"Poison? Did they say poison?"

Sheppard glances at McKay with one of his penetrating stares, as if reading through something. Absently McKay brushes the sweat away from his brow, not breaking the eye contact.

"That's right."

No words of encouragement. It's a rare moment when Sheppard doesn't say _calm down. _ Yeah, definitely a reason to be terrified.

Fronier steps forward, breaking the silent moment between the two friends. "You did well bringing him here. The antidote is among the chemicals on the shelves. I can help them." Fronier moves toward the beakers, but then halts mid stride. He turns to see Irene, the baby still held within her arms. "Abel?"

Braided girl nods sadly, handing the child to her uncle.

"My sister?"

Irene motions toward McKay, McKay nods his head. "I'm sorry." He's been saying that a lot lately.

Hatred blocks the sadness within the teen's features. "Her death shall be avenged."

"No." It is Frobinius again. A ten-year-old still, but he seems so much older now. Did a single day really make this much difference? "I am sorry for your loss but I cannot allow you to harm Galois simply for fathering her child."

Fronier looks at the king, a mad glint within his own eye. "Are you not to execute us anyway, _Sire_?"

"No, Fronier. I am not."

Fronier takes a step back as though doubtful and confused by the promise. But then he smiles briefly, taking his nephew within his arms. "Much has changed today."

Moments fly by in a daze, but maybe that's just the dizziness still looming over McKay's head. He needs to rest, and soon. But there is still so much to do.

The strange girl reacts well to the antidote, her fever breaking almost immediately. Ronon is not so lucky. McKay's never been much for the sight of blood, and less so for the sight of someone dying. He thinks of Epina's corpse in the next room and his stomach rolls. Ronon doesn't look too different right about now.

"We need to get Carson," Sheppard says, as if this were some new revelation.

"Is that your expert opinion, Colonel?"

Sheppard doesn't take McKay's bait, there were just some times he wasn't in the bantering mode. "How do we get out of here, McKay?"

Fronier clears his throat holding up a small device. "We used this control to access the transporters. It can't carry more than five people though and it's dangerous out there. However, if one of you were to rush to the gate, you could go find help."

Teyla goes. McKay's too weak to try.

"Are you okay?" Sheppard asks once everyone else has left.

McKay puts on his best fake smile. "I've been kidnapped, coerced into babysitting, and I've just watched a woman die. What the hell do you think, Colonel?"

"I think there is something you're hiding."

"I'm going to go check on the kids."

Most of the kids are awake, whispering as though there were still a need to hide. Only blond haired girl is asleep, and that is at least one small miracle granted their way.

"Will your friend be okay?" one of them asks.

McKay doesn't feel like answering.

Frobinius and his gang are still there. The kid comes up to him, looking more like a monarch by the minute. He holds his head high, his unusually long nose sticking in the air. "If you leave here before the fighting ends, I cannot promise your safety."

"I know."

The guards hustle the king along, almost getting him to the exit before McKay can ask, "And what of Isaac? You will allow him to live, as well?"

"There are some things that even a king cannot forgive."

It's then that McKay starts plotting where to place the preteen. If not the children's planet, maybe with the Athosians. One thing's for sure, he's not keeping the kid here.

Speaking of the preteen, he's not with the other kids. Checking a few of the rooms, he sees Isaac sitting with his father by the strange woman's bed. Her cheeks are still flushed and she has yet to awaken. "Thank you, Sir." Isaac turns around, biting his lower lip as though to keep from crying. Young Abel is asleep in his arms. "I do hope your friend will be well."

McKay nods and moves forward again, the dizziness so close to overtaking him.

"Lie down before you fall over, McKay."

"You too, Colonel."

"Someone needs to stay with Ronon. You need to sleep."

McKay would argue, but he's so tired. So very... "We're in a cavern full of technological marvels. Do you really expect me to sleep when I could be studying all of this?"

He returns to the main room, some of the kids smiling at him as he passes by. He sees the control chair and once again caresses its armrest. If only he had gotten it to work, this stupid drug wouldn't be in his system. If only...God, he is tired.

He wonders how Teyla is. How Frobinius is faring. What if Ronon doesn't make it? Too much. He can't think and that bad enzyme is just making him nauseous. His body is feeling more weary by the moment, but his thoughts are moving twice as fast. It's like having a delayed reaction while coming down from the high. Great, so now the stuff chooses to kick in.

He's plagued by a sudden thought. Oh, God, what if something worse happens? What is he doing just sitting here? He should get the chair working. Should protect. Gotta protect.

SGA

When Sheppard enters the room, Rodney is toying with the Ancient chair, muttering to himself in a tone that's manic even for McKay. Rodney's knees move back in a rhythmic pattern, and Sheppard can see that his shoulders are shaking on their own volition. When he turns slightly, Sheppard can see his eyes are a little bloodshot, the way they get when the scientist hasn't slept in days. He mumbles under his breath as he plays with the machinery, occasionally stopping to hit his head and tell himself to focus.

At least all the kids seem to have scurried away to their beds. They don't have to witness this.

Until now, Sheppard hasn't been sure to believe young Irene's tale, if only out of a sense of friendship for Rodney. But as he watches his friend sway slightly back and forth while combining two wires together, the sweat glaze on his skin glistening in the glow of the machine's lights, Sheppard realizes that it must be true. The girl had seen exactly what she had thought she saw; she understood the database just as well as McKay. Well enough to know.

Damn. Damn. Damn! It had been his job not to let Rodney out of his sight for the entire mission, and he'd made a few promises to Elizabeth and Carson on that account. But Pegasus could give a damn about what he wants and now he has this to deal with. Son of a...

Rodney still hasn't noticed him standing there, and Sheppard makes no move to call attention to himself. He leans against an arch in the cave, his arms crossed nonchalantly around his chest, contemplating how to even begin. Some things were hard to deal with, but this...there is so little he can do to make this better. So he just stands there, listening to his friend's insane ramblings.

"The white wire goes with the blue, no no no, the black. Black. Huh, black is an interesting color. Nothing like red though. Oh yeah, the red wire goes with the black, or is it the blue. Focus, Rodney. You can do this. Huh, that was sort of painful. Guess blue doesn't go with black. Or was it the other way around. Focus. You know how to do this. Focus. Gotta save them all again. Gotta...what was I doing again?"

There is a slight twitch to McKay's eyes, and a heaviness to his breathing that is more pronounced than Rodney can make it during a hypochondriactic fit. This is about as far away from hypochondria as it can get, and McKay doesn't even seem to realize something is wrong, that he's acting different, that he's scaring the shit out of Sheppard. Ronon is a few feet away in a nearby room, lying on a bunk, his wound so close to stealing away his life. Still Sheppard wonders if Rodney is in worse straits. If Ronon recovers at least it won't haunt him for the rest of his life.

"There, that works. Okay now I only gotta get the crystals in the right spot and where did Fronier go? And he said that this was...what was I...ah, yes."

The scientist turns around to looks at his tools, but his unfocused blue eyes fall on Sheppard's hazel ones. His shaking stops for a moment and then starts once again as he puts down the life signs detector. "Ah, Colonel. How long have you been standing there?"

"Time for a break, Rodney."

"Are you kidding? I don't have time for a break. Ronon is dying out there and then the baby and the kids and we gotta get out of here and I'm the only one who can do it so go away and let me work and I'll call you when I'm done."

Wow. Carson and Elizabeth weren't exaggerating when they explained just how fast McKay talked when he was on the enzyme. What was it Elizabeth had said, that McKay later confirmed, that although McKay's ramblings were incoherent and faster than light speed, he thought everyone else was talking crazy? That he was lucid? Hell, McKay hadn't taken that much this time, though. But sleep deprivation, stress, lack of food...well, it really wouldn't take much of the drug to set McKay off again, now would it? The enzyme should be slowing its course through McKay's body. Withdrawal is imminent. There will be no easier time to say this. So Sheppard offers his best commanding stare to Rodney, trying to keep his own anger and frustrations at bay. "Sit down, Rodney." It is not a request.

The two friends make their way to some seats. McKay's vest lies a few feet away from the scientist's right foot, just out of Sheppard's reach.

"When's the last time you ate?"

"What, you're not worried about me forgetting to eat are you? Because this is me we are talking about. I believe the term you used was human garbage disposal."

He doesn't miss the way McKay's voice has calmed, though his hands are still fidgeting. The stress must be playing a large role in this episode, maybe that will help in recovery? Or clearing his mind enough that they could get out of here, with everyone alive that is.

"You've forgotten to eat a few times this week. It's easy enough to forget when your metabolism is still screwed up. Pick up a powerbar and eat."

"I'm out of them."

There it is. The bold face lie he had been expecting. The opening he needs. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Now we don't have a lot of time here so let's just skip the twenty questions and you get straight to the part where you tell me what you want."

"Okay, fine. I want one of your powerbars."

"Eat your own."

"I'm out." Hey, Rodney had lied first, right? What did it matter if Sheppard did the same?

"Then go eat some of the stuff the kids are cooking up. I already told you, or have you suddenly become deaf, that I'm out."

McKay's voice is agitated, his hands quivering. And Sheppard feels much the same. He counts backward from ten, his fists clenching slightly. He's mad at the world, at Pegasus. He's furious with the situation. And damn it, he's terrified for McKay. So when he speaks next, it takes all of his effort to keep his voice level.

"If you want to earn my trust, Rodney, don't lie to me."

"What? What are you on about? Why would I lie to you about whether or not I have powerbars? And what is your sudden fascination with my food supply anyway?"

Rodney's pupils are wide, the black almost blocking out the blue in his irises. He's not looking directly at anything, just sitting there, trying to keep his body from rocking back and forth. And Sheppard is no idiot. He went to college. He knows that look, those mannerisms only too well. And the more he thinks about it, the more he clenches his fists.

"No, see, that's the wrong question, Rodney. The correct one, is why do you feel the need to hide them? Hand me your vest."

"Shouldn't you be helping Ronon or something? I don't have time for this. I have work to do." McKay's on his feet, wiping away the mounds of sweat that have collected on his features. His cheeks are white.

Sheppard doesn't move. He leans back casually, resting his body against his left arm. He's a tactician and he's playing Rodney as though he were the enemy, making him fall into some carefully laid traps. It really isn't right because McKay isn't the bad guy, he's the victim. But he's also the one who made the choice--again. Damn. Give Sheppard a few dozen Wraith to fight and it would be easier than having to do this.

"Give me your vest, McKay." He lets his anger show in the final word, but it's all part of the game. Game...Yeah, 'cause this is somehow fun? No, it's all part of the tactics, the play, but it sure as hell isn't a game.

"Screw this, I'm going back to..."

"You wanted to cut straight to the chase, well that's what I'm doing. Hand it over, now!" And he's on his feet by the time that his sentence is done, his face just inches away from McKay's. The anger resonating from both of them is palpable enough they could probably cook dinner with the heat. His chest beats up and down and he's acutely aware of the sound his breath makes as it exits his nostrils. This is Sheppard pissed, pissed at the whole fucking galaxy.

McKay's eyes somehow manage to focus long enough to lock stares with Sheppard before he starts to sheepishly take a few steps back. His voice is soft and slow when he speaks next, and by the way he wobbles, Sheppard wonders if he should be ready to catch him. The high blood pressure caused from the enzyme might be a problem. He should have thought of that before talking, but it's too late now.

"How'd you find out?" McKay asks, his eyes downcast.

And there it is. The confirmation he has been dreading, but needs just the same. "There were kids in the room when you injected it. Irene knows enough to read the database. Your first mistake was underestimating them. Now, give me the powerbars, Rodney. _All_ of them." He takes a few steps forward and McKay takes another three back.

"Are you crazy? We have who knows how many hostiles out there waiting for us. Hostiles we are going to have to fight our way past with ten children, a baby, and a poisoned Ronon. I should think we have bigger problems to worry about than what may or may not be in my powerbars."

"What _is _in your powerbars, you mean. You've already admitted it. The fight is over out there, and Teyla will be here with Carson soon. Right now, I'm a little more concerned about you. Now hand them over."

Ford had those moments when he was first on the enzyme, where he seemed almost normal if not for the creepy eye. Ford also had those moments where he snapped, where he pointed guns at innocent people just to get his fix. Sheppard wonders just how close to insanity McKay is right now. He can't see McKay going commando like Ford did, but then again, a few weeks ago he could never have seen McKay willingly taking drugs either. Life changes people. Pegasus changes people.

McKay backs up a little, reaching down towards his vest but then stopping midway. "You don't understand, do you? No, I wouldn't suppose _natural-warrior-I get-all-the-ladies, Kirk,_ would ever understand what it's like to be in my situation. If those kids die, it will be your fault."

"Your job is to fix things, McKay. You can't do that if you can't think. I'm trying to help you."

"Sure. You're just trying to take all the glory. _Again._"

He's punched men for less, but this is McKay and his friend isn't exactly thinking straight right now. So while Sheppard's fist is now tightly wrapped in a ball, he doesn't take any other action. "We can talk about this later. Just give me your gear and get your ass back to work or bed."

McKay hunches down once more, his hand reaching towards the pack, but it never gets there. It registers with Sheppard's instincts before it registers with his mind just what exactly McKay is about to do. Sheppard's hand is on his pistol and before he can process any of it, he's pointing his gun right at his friend, and that's just not right either. Neither is the fact that McKay's nine-millimeter has also been aimed--right at Sheppard's chest.


	10. Falling High

_AN: Thanks again to my betas and thanks to everyone still reading. I hope you are enjoying this._

_AN: Warning: lots of foul language in this part. _

* * *

Chapter 10: Falling High 

_McKay hunches down once more, his hand reaching towards the pack, but it never gets there. It registers with Sheppard's instincts before it registers with his mind just what exactly McKay is about to do. Sheppard's hand is on his pistol and before he can process any of it, he's pointing his gun right at his friend, and that's just not right either. Neither is the fact that McKay's nine-millimeter has also been aimed--right at Sheppard's chest. _

Sheppard trains his penetrating stare at McKay, watching how the gun shakes in the scientist's hand. Maybe that's because his whole friend is trembling, his bloodshot eyes lit only by a dark, manic glint. Sheppard's not sure how it came to this, but here they are. His own gun stays firmly in place and he'd give anything not to have to shoot. Not at McKay. Not at his best friend.

"Rodney."

"Colonel."

"Don't you think you're carrying this a little far?"

"You didn't give me much of a choice, now did you?" McKay ends with a crazed smirk, but Sheppard keeps his focus on the trigger of the opposite gun. One movement--any at all--and he won't have much of a choice.

He had to shoot Ford not too long ago. He's still uncomfortable with that. All he wanted was to bring the lieutenant home, to get him help, but he failed. He's betting Ford is still alive out there, somewhere, getting his fix as he travels from gate to gate. A lonely soul adrift in Pegasus, too high to know just how insane he's become. No one from Atlantis able to reach him.

So here Sheppard is again, about to lose another one. He's replayed those encounters with Ford in his mind so many times and he still can't figure out what he needed to do differently to change things. What if he can't fix this problem with McKay either?

"Rodney, listen to me. I know right now that you're disoriented and confused. Think about this for a second. Do you really want to be pointing that at me right now? I'm not your enemy."

"I can't let you take them, Colonel. I have to protect the kids and we gotta get out of here and I'm too weak to do this on my own and I need to be able to make it and if I don't figure this out then if we all die it will be my fault." Beads of sweat glisten on his white skin. Rodney's free hand grips tightly on the nearby console. He's struggling to stay conscious, Sheppard can see it in the way he blinks his eyes and how his arm shakes. The gun never falls though, and neither does McKay. "I can't let you take them, they're our only hope."

"God, Rodney, is that what this is about? You're so convinced you're weak that you think you need drugs?" He takes a cautious step forward, his own weapon still tracking the ill scientist.

"I do what I have to do, Colonel. You of all people should understand that. What? What are you doing? Stop. Move again, and I'll shoot you. I swear I will." Rodney's waving the gun in a manic whirl, still holding himself up with a trembling arm. His pallor is frightening.

If this were another opponent, Sheppard would probably take advantage of the weakness and lunge forward, fighting for the gun, but this is McKay. Moves like that often end in someone dying, and Sheppard isn't about to have either of them out for the count. He's not going to lose McKay in the same way he did Ford, either. He won't make the same mistake twice.

"Rodney," it's a struggle to keep his voice level, to hide his own fear, "the war is ending up there. Help is coming. You don't have to protect anyone anymore. Do you understand?"

"I...I don't believe you. You just want the powerbars for yourself. You think I don't know better, but I do. You can't have them. You hear me. They're mine!"

"I just want to help you."

"Fuck that, Colonel. Stay the hell away from me. You wanted to help me last night, right? All that bullshit about kicking me off the team if I was lying. Well, I guess you got your answer and I guess that means I'm off your team, and you know what? Good fucking riddance. At least I won't have to play hero anymore, I can just go out there and protect myself, and that enzyme is the key. The key. It's the key I need and...Keep back, Colonel. Just keep back."

It's a rare thing, hearing McKay cuss—really cuss with the anger trembling within his own voice. Sheppard doesn't like it because it can't mean anything good. All the knowledge and clarity that normally flows through McKay's blue eyes is gone now, those black pupils still so wide they seem to cover everything. It's not good. Not good at all.

"I don't leave people behind, McKay, you should know that."

Maybe that broke through, or maybe the illness was just getting to be too much, because the next thing John knows McKay really is down on the ground, his brow crinkled in pain. A second later, his body starts convulsing lightly. "Rodney!" Lowering his gun, he's at the man's side in a second. "You're okay, buddy. Just..."

Rodney's body stops and his eyes open once more, still filled with confusion. "Colonel?"

"That's right, Rodney. Are you okay?"

"Bad enzyme."

_Is there such a thing as good enzyme? _"It was ten thousand years old. What did you expect?"

"Guess I wasn't thinking."

"Apparently not. We'll get you help soon enough. You'll be okay." He's not sure who he's trying to convince, because this is bad. Very bad. Irene had mentioned McKay had some sort of strange collapse, but she had only heard it secondhand from Frobinius and wasn't sure it was true. Thank God she was smart enough to know something was wrong and to tell Sheppard.

"It would be nice to be okay."

Relief floods through Sheppard's veins at the sight of his friend's slight smile, the adrenaline still making his heart beat loud enough for the kids in the other room to hear. He lowers his right arm, gun still in hand, under McKay's shoulders, helping him to sit up while feeling for McKay's fallen gun with his other hand. A strong hand--too strong for McKay's--grabs his wrist, pulling it backward painfully.

"Still don't trust me, Colonel?" Rodney's voice is venomous, his dark glare sending a chill down Sheppard's spine.

Sheppard does his best to free his arm, failing each time. McKay's reaching for the gun now. Shit. One well-aimed kick in the gut, and McKay's grip loosens just enough for Sheppard to push himself back and prepare for the next blow. His gun is aimed in an instant right back at McKay who is too busy doubled over, shaking violently with every dry heave.

"Don't move," Sheppard warns. For now, McKay _is_ the enemy. He had to accept that with Ford once or twice, and now he has to accept it with the scientist, no matter how much that hurts. To call this a bad day would be the grossest underestimate of the millennia. He should be over there, rubbing his friend's back and offering support through the illness, but he can't let down his guard. It isn't fair, but that is the way it has to be. He can't trust Rodney, not now.

"Colonel!" Teyla rushes in from beyond the caves, a large scratch bleeding down her sunburned face, her left arm cuddled within her right. She's limping.

Sheppard takes all of this in without moving his gaze from Rodney.

"Where's Beckett? Major Lorne's team?" She should have come back with them. Should have brought a pilot so they could have both Puddlejumpers ready to get them and the kids out of here.

"The wormhole would not activate. I was about to try the alpha site when I was attacked. Many battles continue above."

No Beckett. Dying Ronon. Crazed and ill McKay. Ten kids. A baby. Yeah, that definitely summed up to a spectacularly awful day.

"All right. Get McKay secured and I'll see about getting to our jumper. It might be our only chance out of this mess." It would mean leaving the kids behind, but Leiben is here now, he can handle it.

"Colonel?" Teyla does not move, though her voice shakes slightly. She glances at the weapon that is carefully aimed at her teammate.

McKay has stopped heaving, his head now buried within his legs, his gun still lying just inches away from him.

"You heard me, Teyla. Grab some zip ties and take him into custody."

Reaching into her vest, she pulls out the restraints and makes her way forward. Her voice is soft. "Rodney. Are you okay?"

"Be careful, Teyla." She's approaching too much like a friend, her compassion moving her to help the man that is so clearly sick. It's hard to believe how strong McKay is right now, not just because it's Rodney, but with the way he trembles...he appears vulnerable but appearances are deceiving. "Rodney, put your hands on your head."

Teyla stops mid-stride, silently asking Sheppard for answers, clearly uncomfortable with the entire situation. He glances at her, his own silent communication asking for trust while warning of the dangers.

"I mean it, McKay. Hands on your head, now." Never underestimate the enemy.

"Here I always thought we were friends." McKay scoffs but his hands make their way in a steady, slow path toward his head before they arrive.

Teyla takes a few steps forward, first securing his right arm and then the left. "I am sorry," she whispers just loud enough for Sheppard to hear.

"Is everything okay out here?" Leiben's voice calls, exiting from one of the rooms. "I hear a lot of yelling." Isaac is by his side, peering from the doorway as though preparing himself to fight if need be.

Sheppard still hasn't lowered his weapon, not willing to give Rodney a chance to become another Ford. He nods. "We had a bit of a problem."

"I can see that. What..."

"Listen, I need to get my people home, now. We had trouble contacting our planet, and I'm not sure how long my men can wait for attention."

"What do you need us to do?"

"Teyla is going to stay here with McKay and Ronon while I go check on another option. We're going to lock McKay in the first room, and I don't want anyone opening that door for any reason, got it?"

"Oh, joy for me," Rodney says. "A locked room and I bet that's what awaits me back home as well. Not enough to just kick me off the team, right?"

"Rodney."

"Oh, fuck-off, Colonel. I don't want to hear it anymore."

Leiben is examining McKay from a distance. He nods slightly, but Isaac takes some steps forward. "Why? What has he done?" It's almost as if the kid is protecting McKay, and that earns a raised eyebrow from Sheppard.

"He's not himself right now. He's ill and he's dangerous."

"He was protecting us."

"Yes, he was. Look, I know you don't know me well, and I know McKay took good care of you, but I need you to trust me. McKay is my friend and I wouldn't hurt him. This is for his own good."

McKay's quiet, doesn't answer. He rocks back and forth in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

"Forgive me for asking, Sir, but why should I trust you?"

Leiben is the one to answer, "Because I trust him, Son. He helped Moivre and I believe he is doing nothing more than helping his own."

Isaac continues to be torn, glancing from Teyla, to Sheppard, to McKay, and then to his father. At last he takes a step back. "Very well, father."

"Will he be okay?" A new shy voice emanates from some hidden room. Irene. He had left her sitting with Ronon during this whole fiasco.

"I hope so," he answers.

The braided girl appears, smears of blood on her cheek and forehead. She is an expert at bandaging wounds, but not so good at not touching her face while doing so. Tears are rolling across the crimson stains. Her arms hug her chest. "I knew something wasn't right with him. He did a good job of protecting us though."

He doesn't have time for this. Fragile as these kids are, he has to help Ronon and McKay, and soon. He motions to Teyla who then takes over, walking up to Irene, leaning down, and allowing the girl to cry on her shoulder.

"Go," Lebien says. "Go do what you must. We will watch over your friends." Digging in his overalls, the Cartesian grabs the ancient stun weapon and aims it at McKay for emphasis. "You do not have much time."

Fronier exits from another room. Together with Isaac, he lifts McKay up into a standing position, leading the resigned man toward one of the rooms. McKay's head is downcast, his back hunched. He leans heavily on the kids, looking ready to fall over again at any moment. He doesn't speak.

The transporter takes Sheppard to another room just as Fronier had described. It is covered in Ancient technology. Another click of the button on Fronier's device, and he is back in the ruins. All four of their packs lie against the cave wall, and he wonders briefly why Teyla didn't bother to pick one up on her way out. He takes his own before exiting with caution, his boots falling lightly on the purple moss. Smoke wafts in the air, and he can see the remains of a dozen or so fires. There are no sounds of guns or people. But there are some bodies strewn on the ground. A fight happened here, not too long ago. He's not sure if they're corpses or just unconscious victims, but he doesn't have time to check. He has to help Ronon. Help Rodney.

Rodney. It hurts to think about what just happened back there, what could have happened. Ten thousand year old enzyme. Rodney should be smarter than that. _Is_ smarter than that. Why did Sheppard take him on this mission? He knew McKay wasn't feeling one hundred percent. Hell, everyone knew how drained he was. But they wanted so much for him to be okay, they completely missed the point. They all thought he was addicted, but they never cared to ask why. Damn. As a leader, he should have known better, shouldn't have let his own wants to go off-world affect the safety of his team. It is his fault. Everything that is happening. All of it. He was foolish enough to believe he could just keep a watch on Rodney and all would be well. The royal fuck-up of the century. His whole goddamn fault.

The trek is met with less action than Teyla had seen. Though he could do without the burning sun. The Puddlejumper is parked far away enough from the gate that he can avoid whatever trouble had befallen the Athosian there. He starts up the ship, forcing himself to keep his exhausted eyes open. It's been so long since he slept and he's still somewhat dehydrated. He just has to go a little further, he's gotta get them home. He doesn't want to think about what might happen if they can't reach the alpha site. Doesn't want to think about what would make Atlantis unreachable. He just wants to get to his team, to get them safe.

Even that scares him though. Once he gets back, once Rodney is healed again—and he will heal, he has to—things are only going to be bad. Can he keep McKay on the team after this? It's not an easy answer, no matter how much he wants it to be. Even worse, he's scared to death that whatever friendship he may have forged, that it all ended with guns and zip ties. Damn this day sucked.

SGA

Some of the children have made their way back to the main room when Sheppard arrives again. Teyla is there, regaling them with an Athosian story. Some of the kids are even smiling. Moivre sits nearby, holding a scowling blond kid in her lap. Fronier is rocking the sleeping baby. Sheppard doesn't see Irene, she must be the one currently watching over Ronon. She will make a great medic one day, that much is clear.

"Excuse me," Teyla says when her eyes fall onto the Colonel.

"How are they?" he whispers when she is close enough for him to do so without the children hearing.

"Not well. Ronon's fever is too high. McKay has not said a word since you left, but I have heard him cry out in pain on at least three different occasions. Irene told me what she told you. I had hoped he was past this."

"Me too. I have the Puddlejumper parked in the clearing above. We'll have to leave the kids with Leiben."

"He understands this already."

McKay is unconscious when they open the room. Sheppard drapes him over his shoulders, the kids watching all the while.

"You will thank him for us, when he awakens?" Isaac asks.

"I will."

They're almost to the transporter, Isaac, Teyla, and Leiben all sharing the brunt of Ronon's weight, when McKay finally begins to stir. "Colonel?"

"Rodney?" He lowers the scientist onto the ground, glancing into the unfocused eyes.

"My arms hurt."

"I know, buddy. Sorry about that." What he wouldn't give to remove those bonds, but he just can't. Not right now.

"I know." He speaks with little more than a monotone, as if talking from some distant dream. "Take Isaac with us."

"What?"

"Isaac. We have to take Isaac with us."

Judging by the look on the kid's face, he wasn't expecting this anymore than Sheppard was. "I have no wish to leave this place."

Beside him, Ronon is still out cold, his body so still he could be mistaken for a corpse. He needs help now. There just isn't time for this.

"No!" McKay's eyes widen again and he tries to push himself away from Sheppard's tight hold. He's strong too and almost succeeding. Sheppard's hand is on his gun again, ready to draw if necessary.

"McKay..."

"Listen, we can't let him stay here. Frobinius will have him executed, he said as much. He has to come with us."

"Executed?" The response comes in stereo, both Leiben and Isaac's faces growing pale.

"Yes, executed. Look, I know I'm not exactly running on all cylinders here right now, but you gotta believe me. Frobinius will not forgive Isaac for what happened."

"Son?" Leiben's voice quivers.

Isaac lowers his head as he replies in a sorrowful tone, "I was angry, father. I was not thinking straight and I...McKay is right. I must go with them. If you would allow it, Sir." He turns to Sheppard, his head held upright again, but a plea emanating from his fear-ridden features.

"We don't have time for this. If you two are coming, then come. Otherwise, we gotta go."

Two. Leiben gets it, his face shows that much. He nods softly. "Yes, we will both come with you."

Rodney starts convulsing again on the way to the gate. Sheppard pays attention to the controls but he wants nothing more than to be back there with his friend. When a full four minutes pass and Rodney still hasn't stopped shaking, well, he's really worried. The Puddlejumper won't move faster, no matter how many thoughts he sends. She's going as fast as she can and no force on earth—Cartesia rather—will change that.

"You will be okay," he hears Teyla say as she gently caresses Rodney's forehead.

After five minutes, the tremors finally stop. There's a pause, and for once Sheppard thinks things may have calmed down before the final second. It's too much to hope for. Rodney's screaming now. He's screaming in a way that Sheppard has never heard a man scream before—not even in Afghanistan or when he saw the Wraith feeding. Seven minutes have passed now and the screaming hasn't stopped. He knows Teyla is still offering words of comfort, but he can't hear them.

Ronon doesn't stir through any of this, and Sheppard's beginning to wonder if the Satedan died and no one noticed. He knows it isn't true. There's a pulse there—or so Teyla had said a few minutes ago. Faint, rapid, but still there at least. If only this thing would move faster.

Rodney is still screaming, but Teyla has come to the forward pit, her hands quickly pressing against the DHD. "I'm trying Atlantis first," she says, but he really only sees her lips move to form the words. "I can't get a lock. Trying the Alpha Site."

"No, try Atlantis again."

She stops for a second as though unsure, but then says, "Very well." She's used to Sheppard's intuition by now. "Dialing Atlantis."

McKay's body flinches a few times before seizing once again. His screams wane into moans.

Shimmering blue shines before them and not a moment too soon, Sheppard finds himself looking at Atlantis' launch bay. A frenzied Weir rushing through the large doors.

"What happened?" she asks as the Puddlejumper door opens.

"Long story. Ronon's been stabbed. Rodney..." As if she can't see it for herself, the way his body keeps seizing. It can't be good. Not good at all.

She glances at his constraints, examining the rest of his body. "John?"

"As I said, it's a long story."

She turns to the visitors, a diplomatic smile crossing her face despite the fear Sheppard knows she is feeling. "I'm Dr. Weir. Welcome to Atlantis." She looks to Sheppard for confirmation that they're friend not foe, so he nods.

Carson and his team arrive then. "Bloody hell," he cries, before issuing orders.

"Ronon was poisoned, Carson, but I think we got him the antidote on time. As for Rodney, he took some bad enzyme." He ignores the look from Weir, speaking fast so as to get all the information out, "I don't think it was a lot, but I don't think it was meant to have a shelf life of ten millennia."

Carson doesn't stop working, but does mutter another "Bloody hell."

Some nurse comes up to Sheppard, checking out his own wounds, but he shrugs her away, turning instead to his second-in-command. "Major."

"Colonel. Good to have you back, Sir."

"I need two men in the infirmary for when McKay wakes up."

"I figured as much, Sir. Anything else?"

He doesn't realize how heavy his limbs are feeling, until he takes the time to settle his breathing. The adrenaline rush passing. "Take a team back to the planet as soon as you can. Our guest, um, ah..Leiben, can show you where to go and fill you in. We left a few children and a baby behind and they're...um...ah..." it's not easy to think, so he just gives in and keels over instead.

END PART THREE

Next: Part Four: Becoming Whole

_

* * *

Okay, I'm not sure how this chapter turned out. Did it work?_


	11. Torn Tracks

_Here's the finale. I hope it is satisfying. Thanks to my reviewers, my readers, and my betas. Special thanks to Egenus Fabula for her help with this piece._

* * *

Part 4: Becoming Whole Again 

Chapter 11: Torn Tracks

McKay doesn't have ten thousand reasons why scientists _should_ venture into Pegasus. It wouldn't make as good a story anyway because who wants to read about friendships, surrogate families, awe-worthy technologies, and the fifty or so other ways this galaxy can make him smile. Not that he's smiling today. He rubs at his welted wrists, trying not to think about what it feels like to be strapped to an infirmary bed--again.

Carson and Heightmeyer had kept him in that position for days. They were afraid about what he might do to get at the locked-away powerbars, and it wasn't as if he hadn't tried a dozen times. Before the restraints he'd even managed to take out a few guards. They remembered what had happened to Ford, and they couldn't take any more chances.

It didn't help that the enzyme had royally fucked over his brain and the disorientation had led him to say and do some very stupid things. Carson also seemed to think Rodney might willingly hurt himself, which was the most absurd thing Rodney had heard yet—the scalpel incident notwithstanding. McKay stopped complaining about the confinement after a few days and took to counting ceiling tiles. John visited him a few times, but Rodney made the guards escort the colonel away. It's not that he was angry at him, just at what he knew would be coming. They used to be friends, but he's not so sure they are anymore.

McKay's free to roam Atlantis now, as long as he keeps a shadow or two with him. What little trust remained between him and Sheppard after Duranda has shattered into a thousands spiteful pieces. McKay wants to put things right, fix them as he would any of the machines, but he never majored in friendship science and he just doesn't know how. Yeah, Pegasus sure loves to torture him, but the gifts she gives are so much richer than what she takes. Even if it all goes away now—which he knows it will—at least he got to see what it was like for a while. To see what it was to have family.

The ocean sparkles in the shining sun. Living on an alien island definitely has its perks. Where else can you watch both the sunrise and sunset? He'll miss it when they send him home. If he could paint half as well as he could think, he'd take the time to capture the beauty. Instead, he just ingrains the image into his mind.

"Hey."

McKay doesn't acknowledge the colonel's presence, but Sheppard makes his way to the rail anyway. Neither speaks for a while and there's something strangely comforting in that. For the first time in his life, McKay doesn't feel like talking or bantering or even complaining. He just wants to feel the sea breeze brush against his skin. It reminds him that he's still alive, even though he's not sure how.

Heightmeyer insists that his silence is from a sort of depression. McKay knows she's right, but getting out of the rut just isn't as easy as it used to be. He's not even sure he wants to. How much can a man lose before he shatters into nothingness? If he could crawl into a ball and never face the world again, there's a good chance he would. Life was somehow easier when it was just him and his genius. He knows Heightmeyer is thinking about not only sending him home, but checking him into an institution. White walls and isolation really don't sound that bad, maybe he won't fight it.

Sheppard's shifting his shoulders. He keeps looking from McKay to the ocean as if about to say something but then deciding not to. Really, the man is clueless when it comes to talking about anything other than sports and playing Kirk. At last, he reaches into his pocket, leans his back against the rail, and says, "I brought you leftovers. Ronon wasn't too happy when I stole it from his plate, but the wheelchair destroys his menacing factor. He'll be out of it in a few days so if he asks, Teyla's the one that took it." Sheppard holds a jell-o cup in his hand. It's a blue one—McKay's favorite.

"Is that supposed to be a peace offering, because it's pitiful."

"Last time I checked, I was the one with every reason to be mad at you."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not hungry. Keep it."

Sheppard shrugs, opens the lid and downs the thing as if it were a shot of brandy. When he smiles, his blue tongue and teeth are just too much not to comment on.

"Really, Colonel, are you two now? You look like a Smurf."

"Yeah, well, you do bear a certain resemblance to Brainy."

More quiet. The orange glow is almost completely lost to the horizon. The gathering dusk is beautiful in its own right.

"Don't you have a meeting to be attending?"

Silence. Sheppard turns himself around, a sigh escaping his discolored lips. "Yeah, about that..."

"Back when we first arrived on the planet, you told me that if I was lying to you about being fine that you would kick me off the team. You needed to know I'd be honest with you, and I wasn't. We both knew what was going to happen. It's okay."

It's really not though. He never truly lived until he started venturing to other worlds, fighting for the right to simply be alive on a daily basis. He's come to rely on the adrenaline, the camaraderie, and just the general reason for existing.

"I'm going to recommend they keep you on Atlantis."

"How kind of you." He can't get the image of pointing the gun at John out of his head. It had seemed so logical at the time and now...well now it feels like his gut is trying to separate itself from his body.

"Rodney, you and I both know that this is the way it has to be."

"Just go to your meeting, Colonel."

"I'll let you know how it turns out."

"You do that."

The night sky reveals the true beauty of Pegasus. Thousands of brightly shining stars. Some of the planets he's stepped foot on, and that's still hard to believe even though he's standing on an alien world. No. He's standing on his home. On what was his home.

Elizabeth, Carson, Ronon, Teyla, Sheppard, Heightmeyer. All of them have been locked in the briefing room for well over three hours now. McKay still hasn't moved from his spot because he just doesn't know when he will get to stand here again. He's not sure it's worth having his life sucked out of his chest to see, but it's a definite plus on Pegasus' side.

"Sir." One of his shadows, a lieutenant that McKay probably never will learn the name of, moves forward. "You've been out here a while."

"You figure that out all on your own?"

"Maybe you should come inside, Sir. It's getting cold."

"Maybe you should stop playing doctor. Come here, take a seat."

"Sir?" The guard hesitates a bit, looking toward his shadow partner with a quizzical raised eyebrow.

"I don't know what lies your CO has been feeding you, but--and if you ever repeat this I will have to hurt you--my growl is much worse than my bite. What's-his-name can watch your back if I'm stupid enough to try anything. Now come here."

The guard, he can't be more than twenty-five—a little old for the red freckles—takes a cautious step forward and then another. "Are you okay, Sir?"

"What do you see when you look up there?"

"Um, stars, Sir."

"You know what I see?"

"No, Sir."

"A foul temptress of a galaxy, that's what. An evil, conniving, and yet enchantingly beautiful galaxy who relishes in tormenting me."

"Okay." The young soldier looks a little confused if not afraid for McKay's sanity.

Not that McKay cares. He's been bad with people his whole life, never much cared what they thought. Tonight though, tonight he needs to share these thoughts, because he never will get the chance again. "The key is not to let her get to you. Sure, she'll torture you and some days you'd do anything to get away from her, but if you give her a chance, she'll make you whole. She'll make you more than you ever believed you could be. For a while anyway. I'm going to miss her."

"For what it is worth, Sir, I don't think they'll send you back."

"Maybe, but that's not the point."

He can't stay. He wants to just walk into that room and tell them that the point is moot, but part of him wants to hear their conclusion. It's the masochistic part of him that wants someone to confirm just how weak he is. If everyone knows it, they won't expect too much from him—not again.

"Sir, I really think you should go inside now. Beckett will have my ass if you end up in the infirmary on my watch."

McKay doesn't move. If the ocean were enzyme, he could swim in it and be strong. Would it fail him as the drug had so many times before? He doesn't think about it as much anymore, the latest bout somehow taming his desire for the chemical. He's not sure why, because if anything the opposite should be true. Maybe it's because every time he starts to think about it, all he can see is Sheppard pointing a weapon at him while Teyla grabs the zip ties. He doesn't even mind how embarrassing it was. What bothers him is that it was at that moment when he knew John would never trust him again. Part of him wishes that vials of the drug were right here before him just so he could revel in the sound of shattering glass.

"Sir?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to think with your incessant Sirs?"

"Dr. Weir is waving for you to join them."

"Oh."

He feels a bit lightheaded when he comes to his feet, seeing for himself that Elizabeth is really there waving him in. Show time. He snacks on some crackers on his way down the hall, not ready to see another powerbar again for a while but also not wanting to pass out in the midst of the meeting.

It's the longest thirty steps he's ever taken, but somehow he arrives and even manages a fake smile. "Elizabeth." He nods in greeting and she offers him a half-smile in return. Well, at least the outcome of the meeting won't be that much of a mystery.

Ronon and Teyla are the only ones not averting their gazes when he first enters. Sheppard eventually turns around with an apologetic look, Heightmeyer smiles encouragingly, and Carson still won't meet Rodney's eyes. He takes the only empty seat, pulling his uniform straight and hoping that his heart isn't actually beating as loud as he thinks it is.

"Rodney." Elizabeth has the mask of a politician on right now, but he knows her well enough to see the friendship part of her shining in the background. She doesn't get it. He's weak. He's the one who screwed up. He doesn't deserve anyone's friendship right now. No one's.

"Yes."

"As you know we've been discussing recent events and your positions with the Atlantis expedition."

"Yes, well, it's late and we're all tired. What do you say you not beat around the bush, and just get to the bottom line."

That earns him a grin from Sheppard, and Carson finally relaxes enough to look at him.

"Fair enough. After discussing your current mental state with Drs. Heightmeyer and Beckett, we've decided that you should be...monitored for a while."

"You mean institutionalized?"

"No." Her response is too quick. She's playing with her pencil a bit. "Not unless you feel you need it. They are both willing to help you here. If and when they feel you are ready, you will be returned to active duty status as our Chief Scientific Advisor."

"But not a member of an off-world team."

Elizabeth and Sheppard share some silent conversation, as if the answers aren't plain enough. Three hours of debate for them to reason out what he already knew.

"Colonel Sheppard," her voice raises in volume, the way it does when she's making a decision she's not entirely comfortable with, "has some reservations in that respect. He has advised that you not be given off-world status."

There's something different about hearing the words than just thinking them. It's as a knife thrusting into his gut. Sheppard knows he's weak, doesn't want him around, won't trust him. Fine. Whatever. "I see."

"It is not a final decision." Teyla is piping up now and is that anger in her eyes? She's also silently communicating with Sheppard in her _you are wrong_ sort of way. McKay finds comfort in this even if he knows he doesn't deserve it. "I am sure that..."

"No," and this time it is Sheppard speaking aloud. "This is how it has to be. I'm sorry."

Right now, McKay hates Sheppard. It's not that the colonel is at fault, but... A new emptiness settles in McKay's gut. It's getting harder to breathe, but he does his best to hide that. Everything. He found everything he ever wanted--never knew he wanted--on Atlantis, and just like that it is all gone.

"Fine. Then I might as well tell you all now that I hereby resign my position, effective immediately. It would be best if I am able to leave with the Daedalus tomorrow morning."

"Rodney," Elizabeth stands up. She doesn't look entirely surprised, but all pretense of remaining emotionless during this crap meeting is gone. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, yes I do. Now if you'll excuse me."

He never realized how closed-in the briefing room is. Doing his best to smile and leave graciously, he's out the door before anyone else can complain. He's made it twenty feet when someone grabs his arm. "You are not weak, Rodney."

Teyla is smiling of all things as she stares into his eyes. Not weak? Of course he is. "I..."

"Let me finish. I know that you wanted to protect the children, and it was a courageous thing you did. Courageous but unnecessary. Never forget, Rodney, that your mind is your strength. Your team is your strength. You're only weak when you forget this."

"Not that it matters, right? In case you didn't hear our fearless leader in there..."

"He is scared and he is hurt. He will change his mind."

"He's doing what is best for the team." He pulls his arm away from hers and moves away. He's glad when she doesn't follow, because he's not sure how much longer he can hold everything in. He needs to find somewhere to escape. Anywhere. Too bad his shadows haven't let up yet.

He's halfway to his quarters before he hears wheels squeak behind him. A brusque voice calls, "Hey."

It's a strange sensation, looking down at Ronon. Rodney's gotten used to the crick in the neck that comes from looking up at the Satedan. No cricks today, though.

"Hey," McKay manages to say, wishing people would quit drawing this out.

"Don't worry. Teyla will fix this."

"Maybe."

"She will. The team needs you."

McKay blinks a few times too many, wondering if the drug is still messing with his head or whether or not he is dreaming. "What?"

"I said the team needs you. See you around, McKay." Ronon rolls away, leaving McKay with his dropped jaw.

SGA

How do you trust someone that's betrayed your trust so many times before? Sheppard's not sure that he can—that he should. The image of pointing his gun at McKay, having Teyla bind his hands because they couldn't trust him...it's an image he's not likely to forget. No matter how much he wants to.

If only Rodney had been honest from the get-go. If only he'd told them he wasn't ready.

Rodney's in pain. He hasn't spoken much since the incident. The scientist's body is always trembling now, not with the excitement he's come to expect from him, but with a deep hurt that won't go away—may never go away. When Sheppard announces his decision today, it'll break McKay even more, shattering what little he has managed to hold on to. Sheppard doesn't want to do that, but he won't risk McKay's losing himself on the field--not again.

_When Rodney first woke up in the infirmary, he had fought to attain more enzyme. It killed Sheppard that they had had to restrain him, but what choice did they have? Rodney didn't argue much once he gave up fighting, just cast his eyes downward and stopped talking. The only time he would speak again for the next few days would be to tell Carson to make Sheppard leave._

_Sheppard didn't want to admit how much this hurt him, how it boiled under his skin, and twisted in his stomach. It was true, though never said aloud, that McKay was his best friend. So quickly that was fading. It wasn't that McKay hated him, Sheppard understood that much, it was that he hated what would have to come. There are some things that a man just can't walk away from, and some hard decisions that would have to be made._

The meeting is pretty much what Sheppard expects. It only takes three hours because Teyla doesn't understand. Judging by her frustrated glare, he'll do well not to show up to their practice session tomorrow.

When Rodney comes in, that's the real clincher. His bowed head screams resignation. Sheppard doesn't want to think about what life will be like in Atlantis without Rodney. Less entertaining, that's for sure. Who else will he torture?

_Carson berated Sheppard for exhausting himself to the point of collapse, but the doctor was so weary at the time that Sheppard didn't give it much weight. His friends were dying, damn right he was going to do everything to save them. He told Rodney as much when he brought the tray of food to his room, wishing like hell that there weren't two guards—two men that he assigned—keeping watch outside the physicist's quarters._

_Rodney didn't think much of the food, just swept it around on his plate. "Nothing tastes right after that enzyme," he complained. "So I hear Ronon is doing better."_

"_Yeah. Carson says he'll be up and around soon."_

"_That's good."_

_They sit in silence for the most part, Rodney unusually quiet. Sheppard wished he'd say something, but neither did. It's an improvement still because Rodney didn't kick him out yet. That had to mean something—right?_

Sheppard doesn't even try to fall asleep. He finds his way to McKay's quarters, telling his soldiers in no uncertain terms to beat it. McKay is hunched in some far corner of his quarters, but he immediately comes to stand when Sheppard enters.

"Colonel." Ouch. As if the scientist's voice isn't acerbic enough, McKay puts his hands behind his back, his chin in the air. He's in defense mode.

"I brought water balloons."

It takes a second for the genius to catch up to the non-sequitur. It's funny actually, watching him try not to grin or look excited. Too quickly his angry face is back.

"What?"

"Water balloons. They arrived on the Daedalus along with a few other...items. If tonight's our last chance for mischief, we might as well go all out."

McKay's arms fall down to his side, defense mode over. "That is so juvenile, Colonel. What makes you think my guards are going to let me go gallivanting around Atlantis, attacking the defenseless night crew with your plots?"

"What guards?" Sheppard bounces a bit on his feet, a real, honest grin on his face. He wonders briefly if his tongue is still blue. He hurts a lot right now, a strange emotional pain so much like the one he had after Afghanistan, but he'll do anything to quell it. And damned if he's going to let this situation keep him for spending time with his best friend—are they still friends?

"What do you mean what...oh. Really?"

"You coming or not."

"I'll have you know that I have much better things to do with my time." Rodney's grabbing his jacket as he speaks, exiting behind the Colonel. Sheppard allows himself a brief smile. Their friendship was strong and it could overcome anything. Even this, he hoped.

Their first victim is lying on the bottom most balcony of Atlantis. Sheppard and Rodney are just one more up and the poor woman doesn't see a thing. "You ready?" Sheppard asks.

Rodney hasn't grabbed any balloons. He just keeps looking in the air, not having said anything since they left his quarters. At last the Canadian takes a long sigh, losing himself to the ocean. "I wonder what Miko is doing out here."

"Has a lot on her mind; I would imagine. Rumor is she actually likes you as a boss. Heightmeyer said it's a serious condition that it'll take some sessions to fix." He jabs his elbow lightly at his distraught friend.

Rodney's response is to grab a water balloon and lunge it as far into the ocean as he can muster. He follows with a quick kick at the nearest wall, then grabs his foot, hopping up and down. "Oh yeah, probably just broke something."

"You feel better?"

"There was a certain therapeutic touch to it, yes."

"Then it wasn't such a bad waste of a water balloon. Just don't do it again."

"Don't worry, Colonel. I have little interest in destroying your weapons of mass mayhem."

He's not sure when it happened in the conversation, but now McKay is smiling, even if it is an understated, sorrowful type of a smile. At least it's there. "So should I pin Miko, or you want a go?"

SGA

It is barely dawn when Teyla finds her way to Colonel Sheppard's room. He's grinning from ear to ear when he opens the door, but the smile fades quickly enough.

"We should talk."

John doesn't move from the doorway. She knows he's tired of the argument, but she's not done having it yet. As long as McKay is still here, she must try.

"May I come in?" she asks.

"No."

"Colonel. Please, I must have my final say."

He considers her for a moment, then brushing his hand through his overly-tall hair, he steps aside.

"Dr. McKay is your friend, is he not?"

He's uncomfortable with the term, it shows in how he tries to make his lean all the more casual. After searching her eyes for a bit, he replies, "Yes. One of the best."

"And is this not his darkest hour?"

She takes a few steps forward. He doesn't move, but instead crosses his hands around his chest. "He nearly died from taking drugs, Teyla. So yeah, you could call that a dark hour."

"Then why is it that Dr. McKay can not count on your friendship when it should matter the most."

"Teyla."

"Colonel."

He takes a step back now, his grin faltering. Why men always try to avoid their feelings is beyond her. Men are fools.

"This isn't about our friendship."

"No. Then what is it about? The team? I was under the impression that we didn't leave anyone behind."

She moves closer again, allowing the anger to flare in her eyes. She needs him to understand. Rodney needs him to as well.

"Teyla, he betrayed my trust. He told me he was fine, and he wasn't. He knew the addiction was still somewhat controlling him, and he allowed us to believe that wasn't the case. He put all of our lives in danger by doing so. Not to mention, he willingly took the enzyme twice, both times nearly dying. What do you want me to do? Wait and see what happens the next time we run into the Wraith? Let him become like Ford?"

"I want you to not give up on him. He needs your forgiveness and your help, not a one-way trip to solitude. Do you not understand that this is his home, that this is everything he has?"

"I'm not the one kicking him off of Atlantis."

"No, but you are the one pushing him away. Dr. McKay is need of your assistance. If you were truly his friend, you would give him another chance." She pauses for emphasis, not surprised when he doesn't reply. She speaks the next words with great care, annunciating each syllable. "Show him that his strength lies with his friends."

She doesn't wait for a response before leaving, because she knows John well enough. He will mull it over and he will come to the right conclusion. He is a smart man.

SGA

He has every reason to leave, but as Rodney makes his way to the dock, he can't help but feel that he has every reason to stay as well. The wind has picked up since yesterday, blowing his t-shirt away from his flabby skin. It feels nice, though. He'll miss the breeze on Atlantis, it has a certain flare to it. Almost as if it were alive.

The ground is littered with the remains of water balloons from Sheppard and McKay's battle the previous night. Elizabeth said something about it earlier, but Rodney got the feeling it was just for show. As far as a last evening on Atlantis could go, he wouldn't have had it any other way. The banter had been classic. Neither Sheppard nor himself mentioned being angry or hurt as if there was a silent agreement between them to have one last time where things are okay.

"Welcome aboard, Dr. McKay," Colonel Caldwell says as someone else grabs his luggage. Last chance to turn back. How much he would love to. But it's time to say farewell to Pegasus. Maybe it won't be for the last time.

"McKay! Hold up."

"Funny, I wouldn't have thought you the type for drawn out goodbyes, Colonel. Sometimes you surprise me."

Sheppard reaches over, grabbing McKay's arm and pulling him to a less busy part of the dock. He moves quickly into his casual pose but his voice is all business. "King Frobinius wants to throw a celebration in your honor."

"Guess that doesn't matter much anymore, now does it?"

"I don't know. Personally I think a large celebration is in order and it'd be a shame if you missed out on all the royal delicacies."

"I'm sorry, did you forget the part where you revoked my off-world status?"

Sheppard is acting more uncomfortable than Rodney has seen in a long while. He's shifting on his feet, doing his best to look nonchalant but failing miserably. He keeps trying to catch McKay's stare and then quickly averting his eyes the second he does, almost as if he were ashamed. It's all the warning signs of an angst conversation. Ugh.

Sheppard finally speaks, his voice low but firm. "It's my fault you were on that mission. Mine. I should have known better and I still took you out. So what do you say you let me fix this by helping you get better."

"Colonel, I can't be here. Not with you, Ronon, and Teyla out there without me. It's time for me..."

"What if I let you back on the team?"

McKay's not sure he heard right until he sees the colonel's face. He still looks damn worried about something, but there's a bit of that old Sheppard grin breaking the surface.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. You work with Heightmeyer and Beckett to get past this. You let Teyla, Ronon, and myself help you along the way, and when the time comes, you go through the gate with us. Only this time, you trust me and you never—I don't care what reason you manage to concoct—never take the enzyme again. Deal?"

Time freezes. Is he dreaming again? No, this is reality, he'd know it anywhere. Well, whatever changed, he's not about to complain. He nods. "You gotta deal, Colonel." Grabbing back his bag, he has to keep himself from skipping with each step. A reason for being.

"Good. Now I still have some of those water balloons and Ronon's still in the chair. What do you say..."

"You really have a death wish, don't you?"

"Come on, McKay, where's your sense of adventure?"

Sheppard sprints ahead and McKay doesn't follow too far behind.

SGA

It's become one of his favorite hobbies now, to hang out on the pier and watch the stars fade into the morning sky. He sips the cup of warm coffee in his hand, a smile spread across his lips. Today marks the return of Rodney McKay to the flagship team. He can think of nothing else he'd rather do than venture through the gate. It's a lot of what he lives for.

Last night, everyone had thrown him a celebratory party. The cook even set aside a few blue jell-o cups for the occasion. McKay hadn't gone to sleep afterward, just made his way up here and settled himself down with a blanket draped around his shoulders and a hotpot at the ready. At one point he drifted off to sleep, but the dream is little more than a far off thought.

"I thought I might find you out here. I see you had the sense to keep warm at least."

Carson Beckett takes a seat without asking. For the first time since Rodney can remember, the doctor looks rested. There are no black bags under his eyes or other signs of weariness. Just a cheery smile along with a cup of coffee in hand.

"It's the best view in two galaxies," Rodney says.

"Aye. That it is."

Silence. In the distance an alien whale surfaces just long enough to spout out water before disappearing back into the blue depths.

"Anxious to go out today?"

"Hundreds of new and interesting ways to get into trouble and a few million more disturbing ways to die. Can't wait."

"Just make sure you don't come back injured. I'm enjoying the quiet for once, and I don't need you going and messing it up."

McKay smirks. "I'll be sure to watch my step."

"Aye, you better."

The final twilight of a distant star disappears among the stream of clouds. Carson picks up his mug and leaves at some point, but Rodney is in no rush. Life in Pegasus, well, as it turns out, it's not such a bad life after all.

* * *

_New Epilogue added. Read on then let me know what you think!  
_


	12. Epilogue: Foundations

_A/N:This is just a little something extra I wanted to write. In my haste, I accidentally skipped over some of my notes for things that should be in weakness. Maybe this will help bridge the gaps. So this is a tag to Weakness which is a tag to the Hive. How odd is that? Oh yeah, not beta'd. Sorry._

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Epilogue: Foundations 

Irene doesn't like the sun much. She drapes her right arm over the top of her eyes in a vain attempt to ward off the bright rays from burning her eyes. Her gaze moves quickly over the giant ring before her, and she bites her lip tightly as though it will quell the tingling in her stomach. Her braids weave around her as she turns to her nearest companion. "Should they not be here by now?"

"Patience," Moivre says. She rocks the young Abel who sleeps soundlessly in her protection. "You have waited this long, you can wait a few more minutes."

Irene's not sure she believes her caretaker. She's positive that any moment now she will explode with excitement and it will all be the strangers fault for making her wait. She swirls around a few times, unable to keep herself from jumping. When the first symbol comes to life with light she hops even further into the air. "They're coming!"

"Really, Irene. Show some dignity. One might think you were infatuated." Fronier straightens his uniform and Irene can see that he's just as nervous as herself. He winks down at her and she blushes shyly before turning her attention back to the ring. She's seen it come to life so many times before, announcing the arrival of traders, but today is special, today _he_ will return.

"I am not infatuated!" she answers somewhat belatedly, but Fronier just keeps smiling. "He helped all of us when he didn't have to. He's a courageous man and I simply respect him for it."

"He's also nearly forty and you're eight. Try to contain yourself."

Irene crosses her arms around her chest, making sure to look as far away from the teenager as possible. She lowers her eyes into a glare-like pout, that quickly fades as figures appear through the blue tunnel and back into their world. "McKay!" she shouts, running up to hug him despite all her best efforts not to.

_Irene grabbed some of the water Galois had brought for the children. He must have guessed they might spend a lot of time in the caves. She gently poured some into her shaking palm and began rubbing furiously against her face until her hands became coarse and her cheeks were beet red. At least the blood was gone now._

_She moved out in the main area, watching as Moivre restrained Eilie who was now screaming at the top of her lungs. A little kid or not, that blond haired girl gave Irene the creeps. Still, Irene found herself coming by Eilie's side and saying, "It'll be okay." Her gentle voice did the trick, and the young girl settled herself back on the floor._

_With a worried glance, Irene realized that Moivre is the only adult left in the cave. Fronier is here, but she's not sure how good he'll be at defending them if need be. McKay did a good job. He was willing to take on all the soldiers to help kids he didn't even know. She admired that about him. Maybe one day she'd have that much courage. For now, she took the fussing Abel form Fronier's arms. Abel was too small, even for a new born. She didn't mention that to the others though because they have enough to worry about. Moivre knew though._

"Looks like you have and admirer, McKay," Sheppard jokes. Irene sheepishly backs away, somewhat abashed at her emotional outburst.

"Sorry," she says. McKay looks as annoyed as the first day she had met him, but he half-smiles down at her and rubs the top of her head. He stops as Frobinius approaches.

"Welcome back to Cartesia." She has to hand it to the young king, he really does fit the role well. His straight back, raised chin, and emotionless face are nothing less than she would expect from a monarch. He's different, though. Shortly after the cease fires, he started helping with the rebuilding, using some of the new technology provided from the Ancestral artifacts and their new allies.

The conversation has gotten boring, so Irene takes to staring at the clouds while everyone shakes hands. How many people do they have to introduce? Doesn't everyone already know each other? Yes, yes, Galois is Prime Minister now. Uh-huh, Fronier has been accepted into the guards. She's skipping in a circle when her name finally comes up, "Miss Irene has been most anxious to greet you."

She holds her head proudly, enjoying the spotlight far more than the horrific sun. "I've been accepted into medic training," she says proudly.

As they make their way back into the village, they pass through the burnt wreckage. McKay is pale as he examines the ruins, and Irene can't blame him. Her father had taught her about death from an early age, having her care by her grandmother's side up until the end, but so much all at once... Her eyes still water every time she passes this way and she can't help but feel that she shouldn't know this much sorrow. Her mom says part of her childhood's been stripped away, but Irene is hoping that isn't true. Much as she loves playing adult, she's seen now how much they have to go through.

_Less than a day passed before Irene awoke to the sound of trampling boots echoing through the cavern. She jumped out of her bag, looking desperately for any weapon that she could use to defend herself. She felt a strong hand on her back pushing her away. "Everyone hide, now!" Fronier cried._

_The drill was becoming familiar, and though she went somewhat reluctantly, she found herself shivering in the corner of a dark room. Moivre sat nearby while Abel slept blissfully unaware. Thank the Ancestors he's not crying. She hoped that it was Frobinius and his men coming forward to give the all clear, praying against all hope that the war was finally over. She pictured her parents alive, well, and glad to welcome her back to the surface. But she can just as clearly see crimson stained swords and hear the sounds of weapons firing and people screaming. Houses burning. She knew the stories, she knew..._

_There are voices out in the main hall, but they're not carrying far enough for her to hear them. Is she so weak that she must tremble so?_

_When Fronier calls for the kids to come back, Irene finds herself frozen in place. She chastises herself for the foolishness then takes the necessary steps to enter the front room. New men are there--strangers. They wear the same outfit as McKay. They're assuring her she's safe, that she'll be okay. She's not sure she believes them._

Lorne is laughing at McKay for something, but Irene's not sure she gets the joke. Something about coconut and foul smelling cremes, but Irene thinks the stuff has a nice aroma. She leans down to pet one of the local birds, it's whiskers flicking at her touch as it lets out a small wail before beating it's wings and flying away. McKay seems to like the creatures as much as she does, but says they should at least purr, whatever that is supposed to mean.

At last they come to the royal house, making their way up the steps. Irene widens her legs, taking three at a time despite McKay's calls to be careful. He still thinks he's protecting her and the rest of the children, and she can't help but chuckle at his nervousness. She takes four steps in the next stride just to see him flustered.

The banquet room is gigantic. Irene has never been here before, and she still can't believe her luck now. Silk adorns the walls, people are dressed in beautiful outfits, and the food! She's never seen so much food! It's like playing princess but having all the amenities to go along with it.

"A banquet in your honor," Frobinius is saying. He's speaking to McKay but as far as Irene is concerned, he might as well be speaking to her.

SGA

Food. Tons of glorious, wonderful food. All of it citrus free. All of it made in his honor. As far as off-world ventures go, it doesn't get better than this. Rodney greedily bites into a delicious meat leg that tastes something between a lamb and a cow, savoring the flavor before gulping it down. "I was wrong."

"What?" Sheppard is leaning against a wall just a few feet away. From his red face and the succeeding coughs, Rodney figures he must have nearly choked on a delicacy.

"I said I was wrong. I used to think there was no such thing as heaven, but...this...this has got to be it. People who love me and feed me and no nasty bad guys hanging around the corner."

"It's different; I'll grant you that."

"You're just upset that they love me more than you."

Sheppard answers by rolling his eyes and grabbing something that looks like cake, but really, this is an alien galaxy so it could be a vegetable. Wow, these people really could cook.

"Excuse me, Sir." Rodney turns around to see a saronged man bowing before him with a giant smile. "In honor of your great courage and protection of my daughter, I would like to present you with this gift."

Rodney motions for him to throw it with the others, his mouth still full of savory yummyness. "Over there," he mumbles. Sheppard passes him an admonishing look so Rodney hastily adds, "Thanks."

Music bursts from some nearby speaker and Rodney can't help but be taken away by the beat. The instruments are different but brilliant in their sound. His favorite is much like a flute but with a bit of a string sound mixed in. Taking a sip of the local punch, he grabs onto Irene's hand who is insisting he come and dance with the other kids. Teyla, who has joined the adults circle, is laughing softly and Rodney can only imagine how foolish he looks hopping around while holding the hands of bratty kids. Not that these kids are brats. Not really. Could stand to not be as loud though. Don't need to be so dirty either.

By the time the music ends, Rodney's head is swirling. When he nearly plummets to the floor, he decides it's time to make his way back to the others. Did the room have to tilt so much? Breathless, he leans against the nearest wall and sinks down to the floor. Kids have way too much energy.

"Enjoying yourself?" Elizabeth looks more relaxed than Rodney has seen her in a long time. She takes a bite of some of the local fruit, holding back a chuckle but completely failing.

He waves his finger in the air, letting her know his response will be delayed. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am. What's so funny?"

"Not everyday I see you covered in flowers and dancing with the local children. I should have brought my camera."

She might find it funny, but to Rodney it's the cause of his watery eyes and sniffling nose. The leis around his neck are covered with beautiful alien flowers of every color and shape. He's particularly fond of the yellow bell-shaped one, but could really do without the whole mess. He could also do without the sarong that the villagers had insisted he wear, much to Sheppard's amusement.

Tugging on his ceremonial aloha shirt, Rodney grins, closing his eyes and letting the music overtake him. It really is a beautiful sound.

"It's good to see you, Sir."

Rodney cranks open one eye to find Fronier taking a nearby seat. "Yeah, well, you too." Still a little strange to return to a planet that actually is _glad_ to have them back, much less _excited_ to have him there as well. "Excellent party by the way."

"I am glad you are enjoying it. Prime Minister Galois is the first to open the royal home to all of the village for such a ceremony."

There's something in the way the kid says Galois' name that makes Rodney push himself straight and come face to face with the teen. He's not so good at the emotional clues thing, but Fronier isn't exactly being subtle about it either. "I am sorry for what happened to your sister. She seemed a...um...a...nice girl." Complementing folks, yup, definitely not his forte.

"Yeah. Not that Galois ever noticed that."

"You haven't tried to duel him again have you?"

"No. No. The king has personally asked me to not seek retribution." Fronier makes a fist, clenching some of his red sarong within his palm. "And what of Isaac and his father. Are they quite well?"

"Yeah, they're living with some of Teyla's friends. Seem happy enough, if not lonely for this place."

A new set of music starts up and the villagers respond with rapid clapping and cheers. The Cartesian drums beat wildly to the rapid sound of the flute-like instrument. No one moves to the dance floor though, except for Frobinius and Galois.

Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon all take that as their cue to join Elizabeth and himself. Sheppard has far too cocky of a grin on his face, his stare falling to the flowers. "Well, out of all the inhabited worlds there was bound to be one confused enough to like you. Anyone tell you you look good in a dress?"

Frobinius' voice is loud enough that it's hard to ignore, so playing down the banter with a "Shove off, Colonel," Rodney focuses his attention on the child king.

"It is a great honor to have our guests here tonight. I have just finished speaking with Dr. Weir and negotiations between our people are officially open. I am told Dr. McKay will return to help us better understand some of the technologies at our disposal in exchange for some of our finer delicacies. As we reach the conclusion of this fine night, I would like to once again thank all of those who helped us during our dark hours. It is from friendships such as these, and the friendships that we share amongst each other, that Cartesia draws its strength. Rejoice in this my brethren for it is what makes us great."

Rodney looks around to his team, knowing that those words could not be more true. This is his third mission out since returning to active duty, and really, things couldn't get better than this. He'll have to remember to thank Pegasus when he gets back to his balcony.

"I told them you'd help with the chair. Carson mentioned that some of their population has the Ancient gene for one reason or another. If you can get some of the equipment up and running, they should be able to protect themselves from the Wraith." Elizabeth takes a sip of her punch. It's good to see her happy. It's a sight too rare seen.

As they make their way back to the gate, the dark sky is already beginning to lighten. One of the cat-like birds sweeps above his head, and he wonders if Elizabeth would object to him taking one home as a pet. Not that his hands can carry much more, it's already a feat trying to balance the villager's gifts. The rest of the team is far ahead now, as he takes leisure strides forward, crushing the orange spheres beneath his feet. No one tells him to hurry forward, and that is nice at least.

He smiles softly as a gentle breeze brushes against his leis. He whistles a Cartesian tune feeling lighter than he has in days.He had heard from Lorne's team, but it's nice to see with his own eyes: The kids are doing well. Not that he was worried or anything, but...well...it's nice to know that they're happy. What's more, Rodney realizes though he scarcely believes it, he is happy as well. Good thing he came to Pegasus or he might have never known what that was truly like.

_The End!_

_Thanks for joining the ride! I hope you enjoyed the story. _


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